


tearing my seams

by KayCeeCruz



Category: As the World Turns RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-23
Updated: 2011-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayCeeCruz/pseuds/KayCeeCruz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Driving home one night, Jake Silbermann's car is hit by something. Managing to barely escape with his life, Jake realizes that the animal that attacked him wasn't an animal at all. It was a werewolf. Having been bitten, he's beginning to change into something not quite human. He needs to hide from the people that now want him dead for reasons he doesn't really understand.</i></p><p><i>The only person he can turn to is the best friend he's estranged from (who he's completely in love with) and hasn't spoken to in almost a year. But can he really ask Van to put his life on the line to help him? And can he pretend not to understand that Van isn't merely his friend or the person he loves but his mate? </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	tearing my seams

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story, you guys. I've been working on this story for over a year. I have no idea how good it is now but it's here. Hope you all enjoy. Leave feedback cause it's loved and appreciated. To Shannon for being the awesome and patient beta that she is. So much love and thanks to my artist, April, for the kick ass fanmix (it's _amaaazzzing!_ ) and all the graphics. They are FANTASTIC. Make sure to leave her lots of awesome love here. [here.](http://wouldbedorothy.livejournal.com/84206.html)

 

 

 _It only takes a moment for your life to change completely._

 _That fact he knew better than anyone._

 _So this...wasn't as unexpected as it should be._

 _Really._

 _The gun trembles in his hand. Van's heart beats so hard in his chest he was afraid it would burst through._

 _“Don't. Don't make me, please.”_

 _It came at him, claws and teeth aimed to kill._

 _Van closes his eyes. “I'm sorry.”_

 _The sound of the gun echoes around him._

 

 

 _Midnight, Santa Monica Mountains_

 

Jake rubs his eyes, stifling a yawn before shaking his head clear and steering the car around another bend down the mountain road. He thinks accepting Nate's invitation to “the best party ever, man, come on” was, as he'd originally thought, a stupid idea. Coming off a four week filming schedule and two days of non-stop editing, what Jake should have done was go home and sleep for a week.

Or at least eight hours.

He pulls his iPhone out of his pocket, finger hovering, out of habit, on the first spot of his speed dial. He remembers before he actually touches the screen and moves down to the second number, sweeps over it and scrambles to get his headphone into his ear.

“This had better be good, Silbermann. Like reconciled-with-the-love-of-your-life-getting-married-I-need-bail-money-for-my-stalker-ways good.”

Billy sounds just like he always does except rougher, a little worn around the edges and Jake frowns. It's been a week since he's called. He hopes that if there's something wrong, Billy would have told him. He can't force him. He knows that much.

He holds back, hiding the worry he feels and says as lightly as he can, “Is about-to-fall-asleep-and-fall-off-a-mountain-road good enough?”

“What the fuck are you doing on a mountain road at,” he pauses, Jake assumes to look at his clock, then snorts, finishing with, “fucking two in the morning? Seriously, Jake? Tell me you're at least sober.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Of course I am.”

Billy says nothing and Jake sighs. “I swear Billy, not a drop of alcohol has passed these lips.”

“Pretty lips that they are.”

Jake laughs loud and shakes his head. “Are you sure you're straight, man?”

“For you, I could bend that a little.”

Jake grins, bites back the _Bending is one way to go_ on his lips and glances in his rear view mirror, watches the darkness swallow up the road behind him. He shivers a little and is glad he can always count on Billy to be awake at ungodly hours.

“Besides, I'm sure I'm not the one you'd like to bend...”

Jake freezes at what's left unsaid, knows better than to deny anything to Billy.

Billy – whose apartment Jake had shown up drunk at when Van had -

He really doesn't want to think about that.

“Billy.”

The warning is evident in the edge of his voice. He waits to see if Billy will take the easy road, will let it go, or...

“I just think this is stupid.”

Or not.

It's not like Jake doesn't agree.

 _But you can't force people to feel the way you want them to,_ he thinks.

Billy is still talking, “- and maybe you could try again, man. I think it was mostly the surprise that made him -”

Jake cuts him off. “No, Billy. That's not happening. So drop it, okay? Tell me about your audition. How did it go?”

He senses Billy mulling over whether it was worth it to push Jake about the Van situation (and he honestly can't believe there _even is_ a situation) but gratefully he seems to decide that now is not the time. He launches into the story about going to the CBS studios in New York for a possible guest spot on one of their sitcoms and being mistaken for a delivery man. Jake finds himself laughing the way he only does with a handful of people in his life.

“Okay. How high is that goddamn mountain? We've been on the phone for like twenty minutes.”

“Pretty fucking high.” Jake's headlights flash over the elevation post that reads _300 feet_. “Not that far down from here, I think.” He hears Billy yawn into the phone and chuckles. “All right, all right. I think I'll be fine until I get home.”

Billy laughs, asks through another yawn, “You sure, man?”

“I'm sure.”

The clouds that had been covering most of the night sky seem to part and Jake can see the moon, full and high. It brightens the road in front of him and he's a little in awe of that, wishes he had a camera to record it. Billy brings him back to the moment.

“Okay. Listen, just call me when you get home.”

“Won't that wake you and defeat the purpose of hanging up right now?”

Billy snorts. “Dude, I wasn't asleep yet when you called and you know it. Once I'm out, I'm out. But if I don't answer, leave me a message. Just let me know you got to your place safe and sound, in one piece.”

“You got it.”

“Don't forget, Jake, or I'm calling you up at the _ass crack of dawn_ to make sure.”

“Yes, yes, _Mom._ ”

“Shut up. Later, home fry.”

“Night, Billy.”

He lets the call drop, takes the ear piece out and sets it aside, keeps his eyes on the winding road. He can make it home now. Jake thinks of his soft bed, hopes that the cleaning service he'd paid for while he was away had changed the sheets so he wouldn't have to.

Sleep for a week, he wasn't even kidding.

He presses down a little on the gas after the next curve and sees the last sign indicating the decline.

It's going to be good -

Something dark and fast and strong hits the left side of his car, sends it veering towards the right and the gaping darkness there. Jake's hearts thumps against his ribcage. He can't think through the panic. All he can do is grip onto the steering wheel, hands clenching as it jerks out of his grasp.

Van's face flashes across his mind and he wishes that things were different. He thinks if he dies, this is the last image he wants.

He remembers to keep his foot off the brake, eases the car into a crawl as best he can. It's been a dry season and the road underneath him is rocky, dusty. Traction is for shit on these narrow paths they call roads in California. He doesn't close his eyes even though he really doesn't want to see if he goes careening off the mountainside. The car starts to steady under him and he slows into a stop at the very edge of the railing.

Jake sits, unblinking, for a long moment, flexing his hands on the steering wheel and then puffs out, through his constricted chest, a hysterical sounding laugh. He trembles, the adrenaline still rushing through his blood, making him feel a giddiness he shouldn't. He leans his head against the hard surface of the steering wheel, breathes steady until he feels it subside.

He isn't surprised that the last image in his head, before the fear had made him stop thinking altogether, was Van's face.

It's not the time or place, really, to try to sort out those feelings. Once he's gotten home, called Billy, drunk half the alcohol in his house, numbed himself until he can't see anymore, then he can decide what to do when he sobers up. That seems like an appropriate plan.

Jake opens his car door, steps onto the ground on shaky legs. He needs to check the damage to the car. Maybe call Triple A if it's necessary. They pride themselves on sending help anywhere. Mountains in the canyon shouldn't be a problem. When he can move without tripping, he surveys the damage. His driver's side is completely bent inward, the bumper half off and there's a smear, dark and wet that makes him panic.

He knew that he'd hit something, or more like something had hit him, but he thought it might have been a falling rock.

Jake bends to look, the glare from his headlights not quite reaching his line of sight. He brushes fingers over the stain, swallows when they come back wet and sticky. He smells them and the coppery scent is unmistakable.

Blood.

He glances behind him toward the road. The moon remains high in the night sky, illuminates the path. There's nothing in the road as far as he can see. No injured animal. Jake supposes whatever had hit him could have run off into the forest. Making his way slowly to the railing, he takes a look down, a little surprised that he can make out the bottom of the mountain.

He doesn't remember what the last sign said anymore but he figures he's only about one hundred feet up. There's a slight incline but he can see paths through the trees.

There's a rustling to his left and it takes him a second to notice the dark, slumped figure hobbling down the road. He can't make out anything from this distance but his heart jumps into his throat.

Something is very wrong.

It takes him less than a second to realize what he's looking at and even though his brain tries to reject - because no fucking way he's seeing what he thinks he is – it's like every movie, book, comic he's ever read or seen trained him without his knowledge.

Jake figures even if he's gone crazy, he's better off running the fuck away from a hallucination than learning it's actually his reality.

That's the last coherent thought he has because suddenly this – thing, he thinks, because it's not human – comes hurtling toward him, almost a blur and he feels the swipe of its claws as he moves toward the railing. He doesn't think before jumping over and down the stretch of nothing. Jake's back hits the ground and he groans, rolls to his side and keeps going. The pain shoots through his leg. It's probably sprained, broken even, but that doesn't matter. It's right behind him and he knows it's fast – faster than he'll ever be.

There's cover in the surrounding forest so he heads toward the thick gathering of trees. He can't tell what direction the sound of breaking twigs are coming from. His mind is going a thousand miles a second. This isn't in Jake's list of outcomes for his life.

The thought makes him sprint, leg throbbing, and then it's blinding pain down his side, sharp claws ripping at his skin. Jake screams and it echoes around him, like an unending loop of his voice. He doesn't look directly at it because he can't make it real. This is a dream, he thinks. He fell asleep at the wheel, hit a tree and this is what happened.

There's another drag of what feels like knives across his chest. It's like he's being split open and fuck, Jesus, that's his blood he can feel at the back of his throat. The thing – he still can't say it in his mind – breathes on him, rank odor of rotten meat and blood makes Jake retch, lose his balance.

It hovers over him and he opens his mouth to scream again – then it's teeth dig into Jake's flesh, crunch of bones -

He hears gunshots, watches the creature convulse and turn, roar in pain, he thinks, hopes. There another shot and it falls, slowly to his stunned senses, leaving behind a blanket of deep silence. Jake wants to get up, run now that he has the chance but he can't move. He turns his head slightly, his glance meeting the frozen green of blank eyes. The face shifts, the woman not staring at him, pale and beautiful even in death.

The edge of his vision starts to fade as he hears arguing in the background. There's a warm hand on his head, tilting it up, a blurred outline in his peripheral.

“Hang in there, man.”

Words whispered to him as the darkness folds him in its embrace.

 

 

Billy isn't prone to freaking out.

Out of the small group of friends that survived the cancellation of the show, the distance of different cities on different ends of the continent and the hectic way life can keep you away, he was the last one of them to jump to conclusions or have any kind of meltdown. If he didn't hear from Cole for more than a month, it was fine. If Van never returned his calls, nothing new or surprising. Sometimes Alex would disappear for weeks on end. That was all fine.

Jake, on the other hand, was the one out of their group to go out of his way to keep them all connected. He planned get-togethers, dinners, email conversation threads, whatever he needed to so they kept in contact.

He also keeps his promises, so when Billy doesn't see a missed call in his log the morning after he'd spoken to Jake, he calls him back. It doesn't occur to him to panic when Jake doesn't answer.

 _Probably hungover_ , had been Billy's thought.

It's not until he remembers that Jake had specifically mentioned not having drunk much that Billy begins to worry. He calls twice in the early afternoon, three times in the late evening and by the time he calls at midnight, he is seriously in the freak out zone. All his calls have gone directly to voice mail. There's a fluttering of nerves in his stomach.

It's just not like Jake.

He decides to stop by Jake's apartment in the morning. He shows up with two coffees and bagels from the bakery on the corner. He rings the bell for ten minutes until one of Jake's neighbors, Mrs. Grady – the older lady that lives across the hall and adores Jake – comes out and says, worriedly, that she hadn't seen Jake in a couple of days.

“He was supposed to come over yesterday for lunch. When he didn't show up, I tried to call but I couldn't get him.”

Billy nods, “I did the same.” He frowns down at the coffee and pastries in his hands. “It's not like him not to call if he couldn't make it.”

She nods at him and invites him to wait inside to see if Jake shows up at some point. It's Monday and he has two meetings but he accepts her offer, taking the time to call his manager to reschedule. She yells but he really doesn't give a damn. The nervousness is now a knot that's moving up to his chest.

Something is wrong.

When eight o'clock hits and Jake hasn't shown up, Billy gives up the pretense of calm and calls the police. He expects to be told they can't do anything, because apparently Billy watches too much television, but he's transferred to an Officer Davis, who asks Billy to come down to the station and file a report.

He thanks Mrs. Grady, who now looks more scared than worried, and heads down to his car. He doesn't think about what this could mean. It's in the back of his mind that he has no idea what he would say to Jake's parents...to his brothers and sister...to Van if – he cuts the thought of. He takes the turns automatically. His mind filled with all kinds of scenarios and he has to take a calming breath.

There has to be a logical explanation.

The police department is busy, which, it being Los Angeles, doesn't come as much of a surprise. He heads to the front desk and asks for Officer Davis. It only takes a few minutes before he's escorted to a quiet room and in walks who he assumes is Officer Davis. He is tall, built like a linebacker, dark skin and eyes but he smiles kindly and Billy relaxes a little.

He tells Officer Davis everything he can remember about his last conversation with Jake, details of where he knew Jake had been and the last people who probably saw him, his address, where he works. He thinks of Nate, gives Officer Davis the number he has for him and then waits while the older man writes it all down. He seems intent, serious, his movements steady. It makes Billy feel better and worse all at once.

Billy waits while the report is made, signs it and takes the copy Officer Davis gives him. As he walks Billy out, he speaks quietly, “Your friend isn't the type to pull a disappearing act like this, correct?”

“No.”

Officer Davis nods in return, like he knew that was a fact already, and stops when they reach the doors of the station. “We'll start making phone calls to his co-workers in the morning. Right now, we'll stop by his apartment and see if we can find any answers there. I'll also make sure to take a car and retrace the last place you think he was at.” He pats Billy once and smiles reassuringly, “It's possible he had an emergency and hasn't checked in. We'll check with his family. If he calls you, though, contact us immediately.”

Billy nods.

He turns to leave then stops to say, “If you find anything, can you make-”

“You'll be the first to know.”

He shakes hands with Officer Davis, gets back in his car and heads home. Jake will be fine.

Billy keeps repeating that thought all the way home.

 

 

When his doorbell rings at two in the morning, Billy stares hard at the door from where he's sitting on the couch.

This can't be good.

He pushes to his feet, forces them to walk to the door, takes a deep breath and opens it fast.

Officer Davis is standing on his front stoop.

His face is grim and hard.

Billy's heart falls to his stomach.

 

 

He rides with Officer Davis, half-listening as he explains that they found a car not far from where Jake would have been. There were no plates on the car. No information anywhere in it to let them know who it belonged to. Even the VIN number for the vehicle had been scratched off. Officer Davis says they could have figured it out but it might take them a couple of days.

Billy understands that he'll be able to help them faster.

The drive up the mountain road is quiet, the darkness almost suffocating though Billy suspects this could be the panic attack he's staving off by the skin of his teeth. They round a bend and as the car comes into view, Billy clutches at the patrol car's front panel, sharp intake of breath when he sees it clearly.

He swallows hard, feels Officer Davis looking at him.

“That's Jake's car.”

 

 

The car is dented on the driver's side, blood smeared on the bumper.

The police canvass the area, focusing all their efforts in the surrounding forest.

They find evidence of a struggle at the foot of the small ravine right off the accident site.

Blood pooled in the ground, shotgun casings and a silver ring are found.

Billy runs to the side of the road and throws up his dinner.

Van gave Jake that ring.

Billy closes his eyes, pushes the tears away, and runs a shaky hand through his hair.

Officer Davis is calling Jake's parents to tell them their son is missing and that it doesn't look good.

He takes a few steps to the patrol car, leans on the side and pulls out his phone. The sun is starting to come up over the horizon, shining through the trees and lighting up the previously gloomy atmosphere. Billy thinks it shouldn't be such a beautiful day. Not when –

He doesn't finish the thought.

Pulling out his phone, he scrolls through his contact list until he finds the one he wants, finger hovering over the name.

He really doesn't want to make this call.

He presses it, puts the phone to his ear and waits for the ringing to stop, wonders how you tell someone that their best friend might be dead.

 

 

 _Los Angeles, McKinley Road_

 

There's a buzzing growing in his mind. Like the sound of a saw that reverberates in empty spaces. He wants it to stop.

He likes the silence.

Images assault him now. Raging, bloody pictures, struggling with the anger that claws its way through his veins. Van's face crosses through it all, alleviates the pain for that second. He wants out. Jumbles of memories zoom by. His dad teaching him guitar. His mother and sister cooking and laughing in the red toned kitchen of their house. Dylan rolling his eyes at whatever Jon was saying. Jesse sitting quietly with his book. There's moments blended together of Billy and Alex. The way he started looking at Elena. Van... and then he's in the woods, that creature coming at him, claws digging into skin, agony...

Jake's eyes fly open.

His breathing is loud in the empty room, gaze searching around to find something familiar. There's nothing he recognizes. He glances down at himself, finds that he's in one piece, frowns at the bandages covering his chest.

That means it wasn't just a dream, he thinks.

He tries to steady his breathing, calmly takes in the details of the room. The walls are a pretty blue, solid color that matches the two chairs he can make out sitting in front of the fireplace. There's a replica of Starry Night above it and Jake stares at it for a long time before settling on the large dresser just to his right. There are a few picture frames but he can't make out the images there.

He sits up, grimaces when there's a slight twinge in his left arm and he looks down, studies the long line of red marks. He traces them with his other hand, running fingers over the raised skin and shudders. His heart is beating fast.

“It's not as bad as it looks.”

Jake jumps, head turning so quick his neck protests but he doesn't pay that any mind.

He doesn't know the brown-haired man – medium-build, stocky - standing in the doorway, a silver tray loaded with food – is that coffee, oh fuck, please let that be coffee – and a friendly smile playing at his lips.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

Jake shakes his head, voice rough when he uses it. “No, it's fine. I don't know if anything will ever be able to scare me the same again.”

That smile grows exponentially as he walks toward Jake, sets the tray down at the bedside table then places one hand on Jake's forehead. He feels a thrill run down his spine. It's not exactly desire, Jake knows what that feels like, but it's like a current of connection and he wonders what the hell is going on.

He's never been one to keep his thought to himself.

“What the hell is going on?”

He receives an amused eyebrow raise in return.

Jake closes his eyes. “Okay. Let's start with an easier question to answer. Who are you?”

Sharp green eyes focus on him and Jake thinks that maybe he's not supposed to tell him anything.

“My name's Drake.” He shakes Jake's hand, turns it over in his to study the marks around his wrist then lets go to pick up the other one and does the same. He nods to himself, muttering words Jake doesn't understand and then places that hand on Jake's lap. “You're healing well. That's good. You'll need all strength you can get.”

Oh, that didn't sound good at all.

The thought must be on Jake's face because Drake stops and then laughs quietly. “We're not going to hurt you, Jake.”

The door opens and Jake follows Drake's gaze to the door, freezes when he sees the person standing there. He knows that face but he's not sure from where. He's handsome, in that movie star way that most people in Hollywood are, with the features melding together to make the camera love you. It's actually his eyes that get Jake, that make him remember having seen his face on a head shot once or twice. They’re a deep violet you don't see often.

“I know you.”

He smiles, teeth bared a little dangerously, not in any way comforting like Drake's.

“We've run into each other a few times, Silbermann. You could say we have friends in common.”

Jake glances at Drake, sees the annoyed flash of frustration cross his face, and his voice has an angry tilt to it when he says, “Stop being an ass, Gabe.”

They have a silent conversation over his head that he thinks by the way Gabe's stance relaxes, Drake wins. His glare is still pretty scary, but if Jake has learned anything in Hollywood, is that you never let them see your fear. He meets it with one of his own, raises an eyebrow in question.

Gabe smirks, claps his hands, making Jake twitch slightly before he motions for him to eat. “You're going to need your strength.”

Jake sighs.

He really doesn't like this at all.

 

 

He's starving.

Jake bites into the chicken with a vigor he doesn't think he's ever had for food before. It tastes...more. He ignores the looks exchanged by Drake and Gabe, takes another forkful into his mouth and swallows. He feels weak. All through his body, his limbs, even his face seems to be struggling to work.

It's not surprising, really, after what happened.

The images aren't as fuzzy as Jake would like. He remembers running, the agony of claws, the drag of fire on his skin. That metallic taste of his blood, teeth biting into his flesh.

His appetite is gone suddenly.

He takes a drink from the water, hand shaking when he places the glass back down on the tray. He can't quite look up.

“It's exactly what you think it was, Jake.”

Drake's voice is soft, kind and that makes him raise his eyes, meet the steady stare aimed at him. His gaze flicks over to Gabe, catches the concerned creases around his eyes before he has time to hide them. It hits him finally.

“You auditioned for Nate.”

Gabe isn't surprised at that, only nods once. “I did.”

Jake remembers thinking he was really good but the part hadn't been intense enough for what Gabe could portray. He had seen him in a few guest spots since, thought that he could make it if he kept going.

“You were good.”

He sees the flicker of a smile on Drake's face – proud – but Gabe shrugs, his face stony as he nods. “Thanks.”

Jake wants to avoid this because if he doesn't actually say it out loud than it isn't true.

He's never been big on denial.

“It was a werewolf.”

Gabe pins him with a hard look before glancing at Drake. They have that silent conversation he's had a million times with Van, the one where no one else will or can understand. Whatever conclusion they come to is quick and Gabe’s stare swings back to Jake.

He gives another curt nod.

“It was a werewolf.”

Jake doesn't know what to think or what to do.

His stomach does.

He leans over the side of the bed and throws up.

 

 

“That was a very dramatic reaction.”

“Messy, too.”

Jake glares up, wipes his hand over his mouth. “Sorry. I don't know the proper etiquette to learning that – Jesus _fucking_ Christ. Why the hell was she after me?”

“Probably because you hit her with your car.”

“She hit me!”

Gabe waves a hand at him. “It wouldn't have mattered. She was pissed. Probably hungry. You were there. End of story.” He stops to look at Jake, his eyes soften and Jake feels his heart jump to his throat. He doesn't know Gabe at all but that expression on his face can't mean anything good.

“She bit you.”

Jake blinks, his mind stopping on that thought. The wound on his shoulder throbs, a constant reminder so telling him that little fact wasn't necessary. He flicks his gaze from Gabe to Drake, who moves closer, places one hand on his arm. He ignores the way Gabe tenses and keeps his eyes glued to Drake's.

“Jake. Most of what people know about werewolves comes from movies, books...what Hollywood has shown us over the last eighty years. Most of it is bullshit.”

Jake takes a deep breath. Okay. That sounded hopeful. That could be a good thing.

“The whole silver bullet thing? Only works if you can manage to blow a canon sized hole in one of the motherfuckers. Wimpy .35? Not going do anything except piss it off. You need a semi-automatic. Cut off its head. Make sure it’s mulch.”

Jake swallows, his response stuck in his throat. They take his silence as permission to continue.

“Full moon. True. The animal is most powerful at that time of the lunar cycle,” Drake pauses, glances at Gabe who gives him a quick nod. He turns back to Jake. “But those that have been...infected...some can change at whim. It takes time to learn how to rein in the wolf but it can be done.”

Jake sees the way Gabe looks away and he feels his heart drop to his stomach. He doesn't look back when Drake starts talking again. “I think I need to start at the beginning...”

Gabe glowers, stands and runs a hand over his head. “We don't have time for this shit.”

“Gabriel.”

“No. Drake, we don't. He's out there. Looking for him.” Gabe points a finger at Jake. “We need to keep him alive long enough to give him the choice to learn to live with it. So, the gentle way isn't gonna cut it.”

He looks Jake directly in the eye, that same soft expression back and he sighs. “You already know what I'm going to say.”

Jake licks his dry lips, shakes his head because no...it just...this isn't supposed to be the way. His mind flashes to his parents, his siblings, Billy. Van, always, Van. They can't end like this.

“I'm sorry, Jake, I am.”

He starts to panic, pulls at the bandages on his chest. He shouldn't be in one piece. His insides were on the outside. His shoulder had been torn. Drake makes a move toward him but stops when Gabe grabs his elbow.

“Let him see.”

It hurts a little when he rips at the dressings, not nearly as much as it should for the wounds he thinks he should have.

He knows what he's going to see before he does but it's still too much and he can't breathe.

His skin is red, swollen around scars that look like they've been healing for more than three days. That's how long Drake said he'd been here. Three days. He runs his shaking fingers over the them, shudders. They don't look good but considering he knows his chest had been torn open...

He trails his fingers over his shoulder, touches the indents of teeth marks.

He meets Gabe's steady gaze.

“They didn't get everything wrong, did they?”

Gabe shakes his head.

Jake closes his eyes and breathes deep.

He wants to scream, punch something hard. There's a tremor of rage under his skin he doesn't recognize and it scares him.

“There's more you need to understand.”

Jake looks up, lets out a hysterical puff of laughter because. No shit. There's a lot he needs to understand. Like how the fuck he lives with this now.

“Your life is in danger.”

Drake speaks up. “We need to get you as far away from here as we can.”

He doesn't know where to begin, only nods and buries his face in his hands.

 

 

They walk him through the rooms of what he guesses is a mansion. He doesn't know whose and doesn't ask.

Gabe is explaining everything as they gather whatever they pulled from his car. It wasn't much. His wallet, laptop, cell phone.

The jeans and shirt Drake loaned him are tight and he keeps pulling the long sleeves down, tries to cover the bruises on his hands. They are turning purple and yellow, it's a color he doesn't like on him. He passes a mirror and startles when he sees his reflection. Those same bruises mar his neck and part of his face. He must have had a black eye but it's healing, the blue of it peeking through the swollen lid. His nose looks broken and his lip has a large cut.

“It'll heal faster than you think,” Drake says kindly, hands him a bottle of water and Jake drinks it in three large gulps.

“Yeah. That's what freaks me out.”

He isn't thinking about what any of this means. He watches Gabe argue with a tall, dark-skinned man. He's dressed in silk and Jake wonders who he is.

“That's Orion. He's the head of security.”

Jake glances at him and Drake motions for him to come closer.

“Listen to me carefully, Jake. We don't have time to tell you everything at the moment. We will. Once we've made sure you’re safe, that his not looking for you, then we'll come to you. Give you the details. All you need to know is that the clan always takes care of their own.”

He doesn't even know what to say to that but he's sure his next question is on the money.

“Gabe is a werewolf?”

Drake's gaze flits over, affection and possession passing over his face as he nods. “Yes.”

“Are you?”

Drake looks back at him. “No.”

Jake runs a hand down his face. “And this place – is what?”

He gets a smile at that. “Home. For me and Gabe. A few others. We work like everyone else, Jake. You know that since you know Gabe. It's not a curse. At least not the way it used to be. There are ways to control it, live with it, suppress most of the rage. Outlets that don't let the animal in you win.” He takes Jake's hand and squeezes. “It's not easy and it takes a lot of time. We give you the choice.”

“And if someone doesn't take it? If I said no?” He wasn't going to. It was too much right now but once he could think, breathe, he knows he'll do anything to stay himself.

Drake's eyes darken. “We make sure you can't hurt anyone. Ever.”

“The choice is always there.”

Jake turns to look at Gabe, raises an eyebrow. “How – I don't even know – why do you do it?”

“Because everyone should get the chance to live how they want. It wasn't your choice to get bitten. You didn't do anything wrong.”

There's so much more he can tell Gabe wants to say but he shakes his head, grabs Jake's hand and heads for the exit. There's a car waiting. He barely gets a look at the huge, red-bricked house as they peel out into the curving driveway.

Gabe is behind the wheel, eyes flick between the rear-view mirror and the road.

“Here's the deal: That one that bit you? She'd been around for a long time. About fifty years now.”

“She was powerful, Jake. We – weren't supposed to do what we did.”

Jake furrows his brow. “What do mean?”

“We try to stay below radar, okay? There are some out there that enjoy what they are. They thrive on it. Take advantage to excuse any horrific deeds they commit on the animal.” Gabe glances at Jake, smirk ugly. “You really think bears attack people that often? Or that hikers and backpackers really ‘fall’ down all these trails?”

Jake feels sick.

“Oh, they don't do it often. They live off other animals like we all do. They hunt that way. But every so often, they go on a spree. It's their way.” His hands clench on the steering wheel. “Sometimes they kill the people they attack. Sometimes, they don't.”

Drake speaks up. “Those are the ones we try to help, Jake.”

He's starting to understand. It doesn't explain about him.

“Why me, then?”

Gabe is silent for several moments. He checks the mirrors, pushes the speed on the car up, meets Jake's eyes. “Because we were there and none of us could have lived with letting her kill you.”

The thought that it might have been better flits through his mind.

Drake clears his throat. “She belonged to someone, Jake. He won‘t stop until he finds whoever killed her.”

“Her husband…can destroy you. Won’t stop until he does. She was his mate.” Gabe gives him a hard look and Jake doesn't even know what that means.

Drake must sense that because he squeezes Jake's good shoulder, explains.  
“Mating, in packs, is a huge deal, Jake. For the most part, it's done for life. One wolf for one wolf. Those who choose to mate only do it once.” He glances at Gabe, the look in his eyes telling Jake everything Drake isn't saying out loud. He turns his gaze back to Jake. “It's forever.”

“Losing your mate... that can do some pretty ugly things to you. Unfortunately, our boy was already a demented psycho before he was turned decades ago. This? Us killing her? He and his clan will consider that the first act in a war.”

“It's why we need to get you out of here. Do you understand? You can't be found. Gabe thinks he might be able to figure some way that this won't end up in a battle nobody will win. But you're what he wants.”

Jake swallows hard, tries to breathe through the fear.

Gabe flicks a glare at Jake. “It won't just be about you either. If he finds out who you are, he'll go after everyone and everything you love. Your parents, sisters, brothers, friends, lovers, co-workers... it doesn't matter to him.”

“I need to warn them!”

“We will. You will. But for now we need to make sure he doesn't even know who they are. Understand? And it's worked so far, but your disappearance isn't going to be kept under wraps forever. Once that's out, it'll take him only a few days to put two and two together.”

Jake sees the sign for Los Angeles International Airport as they speed by, exiting the off ramp at a rate he knows isn't safe at all. They pull into the short term parking and Jake gingerly stands out of the car. Now that he starting moving again, the pain is building. Drake holds on to his arm, guides him into the elevator. Gabe follows behind and Jake catches the concerned look he gives him.

“Once you decide where you’re going, I'll make sure to contact one of our doctors there and have them come check up on you.”

Jake raises an eyebrow. “You have doctors everywhere?”

Gabe mirrors his action. “You wouldn't?”

That's a good point.

Once inside the airport, they stop in front of the ticket kiosk and Gabe turns Jake to look at him. “Listen to me.” They stop when Drake's phone rings, Jake's heart beating faster when he frowns at it. He moves away to answer it and Jake feels a shake to his shoulders. Gabe rolls his eyes. “Hey.” Jake focuses all his attention on him. Whatever Gabe may think of him, Jake gets that he is trying to help the only way he knows or can.

“The moment you land – and I mean the very moment – you call your parents. Nobody's reported you missing yet but I'm sure in the next day or two, it's going to hit the media and we'll be screwed. So, your parents. Tell them you're fine. That you can't explain anything yet but promise that you will. Ask them to cut off any search they started for you.” Gabe glances at Drake, nods when he receives an okay sign. “We'll do what we can on our end to put out any fires. The longer we can go without any of them knowing anything about you the better it'll be.” He sighs, shakes his head, “I wish I could say that we could keep him from finding you. Period. But he'll figure it out eventually. We just need enough time to formulate a plan.”

Jake nods. He can't think about that right now. He just wants to be somewhere else.

Drake joins them, says, “There was a missing person's report filed for you yesterday. This morning they found your car.”

Gabe nods, turns to address him. “Okay, Jake. This is the most important part. You need to go to someone who will help you. No questions asked. Someone you can trust with your life and harder still, someone who will believe you when you tell them what happened.”

Drake gives him a sympathetic look. “I know it might be hard to -”

Jake shakes his head. “I have someone.”

They both look surprised but say nothing else.

Gabe hands Jake his wallet. He takes a deep breath and walks up to the desk. “Hi. One ticket for your next flight to New York, please.”

 

 

 _New York_

 

“Is that what you tell everyone, Harold? That I did this to you? Made you – oh for fuck – Eleanor, he has gum in his mouth!”

Van lets his head fall forward onto the stage, counts to ten before looking over at his director. Eleanor rolls her eyes as she walks up toward the edge where Van has been sitting for the last half hour. Ricky and Dave – their leads – hate each other. The nit picking, arguing, and general snarkiness make rehearsals a bitch to deal with. If they weren't such good actors, Van thinks Eleanor would have told them both to shove it. But she doesn't play that game. She's better at handling actors’ egos then a lot of directors he's worked with.

“Ricky, honey. Please. The gum is distracting.”

Van watches Ricky's face. He's a lot smarter than Dave gives him credit for. He likes Ricky. The kid is funny and his stage presence is off the charts.

Alex sits down next to him, nudges his arm and Van flicks his gaze over to catch his scrunched up face, stifling a laugh.

Yeah, it was getting to be a little much to deal with those two on a daily basis.

He doesn't even want to think about what it'll be like when the fucking show actually opens.

He brings his attention back to the stage just in time to hear Ricky say, flashing him and Alex a quick wicked smile. “Chewing gum helps me think.”

Alex chokes on his laugh and Van grins, hears Jake's voice in his head as he mutters, “Sweetie, you're wasting your gum.” He remembers Jake saying that for weeks after they'd watched that movie.

Dave makes a frustrated noise and Eleanor calls for lunch. They've been there since nine and Van thinks the break is called for. Dave stomps off and Van rolls his eyes.

Fucking diva.

His thoughts turn back to Jake, like they always do once they've been there. He misses him so much it hurts sometimes. Like an ache he isn't aware of, until he is. Which just means it's there all the time so he's used to it.

But it's better this way; the distance they have.

“Where did you want to go eat?” Alex steps up to Van, hands him his pack as he throws his own over his shoulder. “Ricky said his boyfriend is taking him out and Dave grunted a laugh when I asked. I think Eleanor probably needs to not be near actors for the next hour.”

Van laughs because that's an understatement if he's ever heard one.

The rest of their small cast and crew had filed out of the stage door so he follows Alex's lead, blinks at the bright sunlight. It's muggy, the near hundred degree heat making his vision blurry. “Holy shit.”

Alex pulls at his T-shirt, fanning himself. “What you said, man.” He points across the street. “Corner Bakery. I don't care if they charge an arm and a leg. Air conditioned. Worth it.”

Van smiles, nods as he pulls out his phone to check messages. He's surprised to see five missed calls from Billy. One every hour since nine. Van slows, his mouth pulling down into a frown. He can hear Alex asking him a question but it's distant.

His gut clenches as he starts to retrieve his voice mail. He tries to calm down.

Everything is fine. He'd know if it wasn't.

He freezes at the rough edge of Billy's voice when he starts talking:

 _Hey, man, it's me. Billy. I don't – fuck – I didn't want to leave this on your voice mail. It's not – Van, it's Jake. Something's happened to him. We can't – nobody's heard from him for three days and his car – shit. Just. Please call me._

Van's clutching his cell so tight that his knuckles are white. He can't breathe. Alex's hands are on his shoulders and he's being hauled to a bus stop, pushed down on the bench. Alex is calling his name, asking him what was wrong.

“Jake – he's -”

“Silbermann? Your best friend, that Jake?”

Van nods. His best friend. The one he loves too much to think straight half the time. The one he said no to when he wanted more because he's a chicken shit.

“What happened?” Alex sounds as scared as Van feels.

“I don't know. I mean. They aren't – he's missing?” He can't wrap his mind around that. He presses on the missed calls options, calls Billy back immediately.

When Billy answers, the silence is like a solid wall that Van hits at a hundred miles an hour.

“What happened?”

Billy clears his throat. Van can hear the bustle of crowds in the background but the only thing he can focus on is his friend's trembling voice. “He called me Saturday night. He was coming back from some party. I told him to go home to sleep – he'd been on a shoot but his agent thought he needed to be seen there so he went. It was late. He was driving down this mountain road.”

Van bends forward, his gut feels like it's been punched. “Ohfuckohfuck...” He closes his eyes, tear welling in them.

This wasn't happening.

“No! Van, listen. Breathe, okay. I talked to him until he was almost down the mountain, then we hung up. He promised to call when he got home and when I didn't hear from him the next day, I passed by his house. His neighbors hadn't seen him either. So, I went to the police. Filed a report.”

Van opens his mouth, wheezes, his chest tight, burning.

“The police found his car on the road I told them he was on. Just his car, though. No Jake. The plates where missing, none of his stuff was in it. But there was –”

“What?” The question is soft and Van braces for the impact.

“There was an accident, they think. The front of Jake's car was bent out of shape and there was...there was some blood on it.” Billy keeps talking through the sound of Van's whimper. “There was more of it on the floor of the mountainside, and some bullet casings and...”

Van waits.

“And the ring you gave him for his birthday.”

Van lets go of the phone, hears it clatter to the ground, but he hides his face in his hands. He knows that Alex is talking to Billy, feels him sit with a soft thud in the space next to him.

There's a rush of everything going through his mind. The first time he'd met Jake, his nervous smile, how all Van could think beyond the _he's tall_ was _fucking pretty_. Those major moments at events and shows. Their first talk in his dressing room: comics, films, music. Their apartment dates where they would stay up late watching some stupidity one of them was raving about. Their hug when Jake had left for L.A. He can see Jake the last time they spoke. His face when Van gave his answer, the flush on his skin as he looked down at the floor and his understanding broken smile in return.

That can't be it.

That can't be the last time.

Alex is waving the phone at him and Van grabs it back. “I'll be there tonight.”

“I'm on my way to you, Van. We'll talk to his parents and then you come back with me.”

Van nods at that even though he knows Billy can't see him. “When are you here? I can meet you –“

“I'll meet you at your apartment. I won't be getting in until later tonight.” Billy sounds annoyed and it makes the pressure in Van's chest loosen a little.

“We'll find him.”

“Count on it, man.”

He hands the phone back to Alex, stares at his clenched hands.

Jake wasn't dead.

He would find him.

When he did, he'd tell him the truth.

 

 

Jake stops half-way up the second flight of stairs on his way up to Van's apartment. He'd told Van living on the top floor would be a hassle.

 _Top floor is the best, baby._

Jake smiles at the memory. He rests his head against the wall, takes long, deep breaths to soothe the pain spreading through his chest. It hurts a little more every minute. He just needs to get inside and lie down for a while.

You'd think having supernatural abilities would make his situation easier, he thinks. Jake laughs because – _he has fucking supernatural healing powers_.

“Benicio Del Toro didn't have to deal with this shit.”

He pushes off the wall, starts back up, counting the stairs and not the distance. It takes him less time then he'd thought to reach Van's floor. He walks steadily, with a turtle's pace, toward Van's door. When he finally gets there, he touches his forehead to the solid wood. He fumbles with his keys and finds the right ones.

He enters the apartment, freezes as he steps inside, letting the door fall from his grip. It shuts quietly behind him.

There's something he doesn't recognize happening.

He moves slowly into Van's living room, drops his bag on the floor with a thud, and heads into the bedroom. He smiles at the bed, mussed and messy, sheets falling to the floor. Some things never change. He bends to pick them up, twinge in his arm that makes him gasp and breathe in fast.

The smell that reaches his nose makes him groan out loud, startling Jake. His face buries itself in the sheets and he rubs against them. He drops them like they’re on fire and jumps away.

Jake rubs his eyes. “What the fuck was that?”

The urge to dive in and make a place there is overwhelming. It’s supposed to have Van's scent _and his_ , that's what his instincts tell him.

“Jesus.”

He forces his feet to move out of the room, doesn't feel it lessening anywhere in the apartment. He thinks he should leave but for the first time since he woke up in a stranger's house with this thing running through his blood, he feels steadier. Like this is exactly where he's supposed to be even if that thought scares the shit out of him.

Going home to his parents wasn't an option.

They'd yelled when he'd refused, begged him through tears and he'd almost given in but Gabe's warning rang in his head. He assured them he was okay. That he loved them. Asked that they give everyone a hug. He promised them he'd be safe. After he settled down, spoke with Van and made sure he could be here, he'd call them again.

He sinks into the cushions of the couch, lets his head drop back and replays the nightmare inside his mind. The crash that had sent him spiraling out of the control. His stupidity by not getting back into the fucking car as soon as he'd seen there was nothing on the road. His mistake of going to the stupid party instead of home the way he wanted.

Now...

This is his life. Running away from a crazy werewolf, being corralled by an angry werewolf, _turning into_ a werewolf...

Jake feels the hysterical bubble of laughter spring up and he lets it escape, starts giggling until his eyes sting with tears he hasn't allowed to appear. He knows it won't help anything to panic but – he can't imagine what his life will be like. Learning to live with the monster he can feel inside, pushing to get loose.

His career, his family, his friends, Van are all in danger because of him.

Van.

His eyes fly open.

He shouldn't be here.

Van is –

He doesn't understand why he feels how he does here, like nothing can touch him. Or why he wants to stay buried in everything that reminds him of Van.

He only knows he shouldn't.

Jake rushes to his feet, pain exploding in his side and he bends forward, tries to keep the scream in but it feels like he ripped something. He doesn't understand what it could be. There's a slow spreading of warmth near his stomach and when he glances down, Jake freezes. The white of the bandage is turning pink.

The sound of the door opening reaches him ten seconds too late.

Van stands at the entryway, hands limp at his side, his face white, gold-brown eyes glowing in the setting sun streaming through the windows.

His voice trembles when he says Jake's name.

Before Jake can warn him, before he can move away, Van's arms are around his neck, his face buried in Jake's chest, breathing harsh and uneven on his skin.

Jake senses it, the change in Van's heartbeat, his temperature rising. He can smell the day on him, the dust of the street, the tinge of alcohol. He bites back the growl when the scent of someone else reaches him. He clenches his fists at his side to keep from rubbing against Van, from making sure the reminder of that other person is _gone_.

Something deep and dark stirs in Jake.

Van _belongs_ to him.

 

 

Van thinks that if this is a dream, a hallucination, he _really_ doesn't give a shit. He breathes in deep and lets out a teary laugh when it's Jake that he smells, tastes at the back of his throat. Jake is _warm_ and _alive_ and _right here_ with him.

It had been the worst day of his life.

When he and Alex had returned from lunch early, Eleanor had taken one look at Van's face and canceled the rest of the rehearsal. Alex volunteered to keep him company until Billy called. He couldn't face his apartment. Not when he knew that was the last place he'd seen Jake. That was where he'd denied everything because he was afraid to change anything. Because he was scared that if it didn't work out, he'd lose Jake. And that...

That _wasn't_ an option.

Except it didn't matter that he'd broken his and Jake's hearts, he'd still lost him.

He'd stopped in the middle of the street, the idea that he would never see Jake again striking him dumb and mute.

The last image he would ever have of Jake was the way his blue gaze had dimmed when Van had turned him away.

The last words he'd said to Jake were _no_ and _we can't_.

Alex had led him to a bar, held his hand when Van couldn't speak, made him drink something to calm his nerves. Van barely remembered any of it, his mind swirling with memories of Jake, moments that he could have changed what he said or did.

It was driving him crazy to know that if he'd told his truth, Jake might not have been on that road.

He would have been with Van.

Hours later, Alex dropped him off at the entrance to his apartment and Van rejected his offer to come up. He needed to be alone. He had to wait for Billy to call him. Van had to think of what their next move was. Where they would start.

Opening his front door to find Jake standing in the middle of his living room, terrified expression on his face when he looked at Van, had made his heart literally stop. Van had taken in the bruises on Jake's face, the way he seemed to sag to one side, hand on his stomach like that would put an end to the obvious pain he was in.

He thought he should ask if Jake was okay. Demand to know where the fuck he'd been. Yell at him for scaring them all.

But all that came out was Jake's name, tremulous and disbelieving.

He needed to touch Jake.

The feeling was so overwhelming that Van couldn't resist the urge to. He stood in front of Jake, and in the next heartbeat, his arms were pulling him down, his nose buried to make sure he was real.

He'd spent the better part of the day thinking he'd never get this chance again.

Van melts into Jake, runs his hands over Jake's shoulder, pulls him closer to bury his face deeper in Jake's neck. “What happened?” Van's voice is soft and reassuring. He doesn't want to scare Jake any more than he is. He can feel the trembling in him and it makes Van’s heart hurt. “Tell me, baby.”

The words are out before he can check them and Jake makes a wounded noise at them. He pushes Van away, steps back until Van can see his face. He can't think at the damage he sees and his hands itch to soothe it all away.

Jake takes another step back as Van tries to get closer, holds his hand out, palm up where the scratches are still visible and shakes his head. “Van...don't.”

“I just want to make sure you're okay.” Van moves forward, ignores the tortured sound that emanates from Jake's throat, and grabs his wrist, pulls him closer. The scratches are red and bruising, swollen where the skin is starting to heal. They look worse from where Van is now standing.

He takes a deep breath, pushes the knot of anger down and traces the damage.

Jake flinches at the touch and Van wants to punch something so fucking hard that it's almost blinding.

 _“Don't.”_

There's something else there that he doesn't understand. It's not the wounds that are making Jake hunch in on himself. When Van looks into his eyes, his breath catches in his throat.

Jake's eyes are almost completely black, a thin line of blue surrounding the iris but it's the heat that radiates from them that makes Van pause.

It's complete and unadulterated _want_. It's the way Jake has always looked at Van – that same look Van works to ignore completely – times a thousand. The heat feels darker, stronger and Van's heart beats erratically against his chest. He can see the warning in Jake's stance, in the way his hands clench at his side, the tense line of his back.

He knows he needs to take a step back, give Jake the space he seems to want but -

Van can't.

Maybe if he hadn't spent the last few hours afraid he'd never see Jake again, he could. But the fear that Jake was dead still fresh in his mind won't let him move away. Even if he could push past that, Jake bruised, ugly red marks on his throat and arms and hands, won't let him. He _needs_ to touch. He _wants_ to know that Jake is real and alive and in front of him.

He stands in Jake's space before he realizes he even moved.

“Don't fight me. _Please._ ”

Jake shakes his head, tries to ward him off with one hand which Van grabs, folds his fingers around Jake's and tugs with more force than he thinks might be necessary. Their bodies meld together, fit in that perfect way that shouldn't be and Van feels Jake shudder under his hands. He massages the back of Jake's neck, slow and steady, starts when Jake's fingers grip his waist hard enough to leave imprints. Van swallows at the spark of electricity that runs down his spine and settles at the base as his breath quickens. His eyes slide shut of their own accord when Jake's nose skims over the skin of his neck, settles on the crook between it and his shoulder.

When Jake breathes deep, like he's trying to taste Van, take him in, he startles them both with a moan and feels Jake freeze.

Van doesn't know what to do.

 

 

It's too much of everything and he can't control it. That shifting of whatever he has inside scares him. He wants to turn and run out of Van's apartment. Van's presence. Van's life. Jake knows that Drake was wrong. He can't stop this from happening. No matter how much he thinks he can. _Wishes_ he can.

He can feel that this is different, though. That it's not that surge of rage that he'd felt since he'd woken up from the attack. This is... an ache that claws at him. It's been growing for days, festering. Only when he'd stepped inside Van's home did it start to subside. And when he'd seen Van, it was like a balm to the wounds he couldn't see. The problem is he trades that ache for a want so strong it makes him take a step back. He flashes to an image of Van under him, legs spread wide, hands clenched on Jake's shoulders, back arched, mouth red and swollen.

When Van steps closer, Jake warns him off, tries to keep their distance so he can think. It doesn't hit him that the ache lessens when Van touches him. Not until he finds Van in his arms, flush against his body and it's like a wave of relief flows over him. It's right. This is _right_. The only thing that makes sense, that feels good is Van.

Jake wants to keep him forever.

He pushes his nose into the skin of Van's neck and smells him. Relishes that scent and the way it makes his toes curl, his skin tingle, his heart race. The way it makes him want to pull Van up, push him against the wall, trace his tongue over the cords of his neck. He wants to mark him. So everyone and everything in the known world understands he belongs to Jake.

His hands find their way under Van's shirt, nails digging into the warm skin on his side and he scrapes upward, feels the skin tear under them. He licks Van's scent onto his tongue, laps at the pulse just under Van's jaw. He rubs his face against the stubble, leaves his own scent behind. It's what Van should smell like. Like the two of them. He drops open mouthed kisses to the side of Van's face, the corner of his eye, slides his nose over Van's. The echoes of Van's gasps are like a separate touch, like fingers dragging over Jake's skin. His hands grip tighter and the moan that escapes from them both is enough to shake him back. Their cocks are rubbing through the denim of their jeans.

He thinks that it doesn't make sense.

Van didn't want him.

Except he did.

He stops his hands from ripping at Van's shirt, from throwing him on the floor and fucking him through it. He opens his eyes to met Van's confused, needy look. Their foreheads are touching and Jake tries to breathe deep, catches the scent that is the two of them and growls in the back of his throat. He feels his control on the animal loosen and he can't. He can't let that happen. Not here.

“Van.”

His voice is wrecked, syllables rough and round.

“Yes?”

Van isn't sounding any better.

“You need to move.”

He can feel Van's reluctance, even his disappointment and he can't help the kiss that he drops on Van's parted lips. “I don't want to... this isn't how I wanted it.”

Van starts to say something but Jake shakes his head, their skin rubbing together and sending another thrill through him. “Please. Van, you have to do it. I _can't_.”

“You can't what?”

“I can't let you go.”

 

 

Van understands and after a torturous moment of silence, pulls his arms loose from Jake's grip. He yanks harder than he expected to and stumbles back. He wraps his hand around the wrist that Jake had been gripping and is surprised when he looks down to find a reddening mark. It makes something he doesn't name flutter in his chest. When he glances up at Jake, his heart breaks at the horrified expression on his best friend's face. Jake's eyes are trained on the bruise, color draining from his face.

“Hey,” he remembers to stand in place, to keep that safe margin of space between them but speaks louder, “Jake. Look at me. Look at my face.”

Jake meets his stare and before either of them can say anything else, the doorbell rings, makes them both jump almost out of their skin.

Van makes his way to the door.

Billy stands there, suitcase in hand, looking like he hasn't slept in days, which Van supposes he hasn't. He glares at Van hard before he steps around him and stops short at the sight of Jake hovering in the background.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Jake. Oh my god.”

Van starts to warn Billy to keep his distance, that Jake can't seem to handle being touched but it gets stuck in his throat because Billy is already clutching Jake tight and Jake--

Jake is clutching him back, hands digging into Billy's back, white knuckled. His gaze finds Van's across the room and the apology in them doesn't explain anything.

Doesn't make the hurt any less.

 

 

Billy sits next to Jake on the couch, hands him the cup of hot tea and watches Van watch Jake. There's a palpable tension in the room, heavy and thick, that Billy can't explain. That's never been the case with Van and Jake. From the moment he met them, and from the moment they met each other, everything had flowed, been easy between the two.

This is all strange and very wrong.

Van shifts forward, making Jake jump slightly back, scoot a little closer to Billy.

The look on Van's face is heartbreaking.

“Okay. What the fuck is going on?” He turns to Jake, smoothes one hand gently down his arm, tries not to cringe at the scratches and bruises darkening the skin around his wrists. There's a bandage peeking out from under Jake's shirt on his shoulder.

“I got – I was -” Jake closes his eyes and breathes through his nose.

He exchanges a terrified look with Van, leans against Jake, one hand on his friend's knee. “You can tell us anything, Jake.” The possibilities going through his mind are too horrible to think on for too long. Jake is a mess. His hair and clothes falling limply on him. His face and arms bruised. Scratches on his face, one eye half shut from a black eye, lips swollen, cut.

“Was it – was it the accident?”

Jake's eyes fly open and he stares at Billy, tenses. “How do you --”

Van speaks softly, and Billy can see his struggle not to touch Jake. “The police found your car this morning.”

It feels like a year to Billy, the start of this nightmare, and he nods when Jake looks at him for confirmation. “Yeah. I – I went to the cops yesterday when no one had heard from you.”

Jake covers his face with his hands. “Right. Right.” He mumbles into his hands. “Did it – has it been on the news or in the media at all?”

Billy furrows his brow, shakes his head as he says, “No. I mean, I don't think so.” He doesn't know what to do with the way Jake's face crumbles and he tries to keep it together.

He takes a few deep breathes. “Okay. Okay.”

“Jake. You need to tell us what happened.”

Billy doesn't understand any of what's going on but Van seems to have more of an idea. It's scary to think Jake doesn't seem to trust him. That's just – it's not possible.

Their gazes are locked, Van's face, set with a determined scowl in contrast to Jake's pale, scared one. Billy wants to help but he doesn't have a precedent for this.

He doesn't think they'll get anywhere when Jake finally speaks, and Billy wishes he hadn't.

“I was attacked.”

Billy closes his eyes, hopes that they hadn't hurt Jake, that it hadn't been something he couldn't come back from.

Van's voice is steady but kind. “We can see that, baby.” He scoots forward, hands twitching to reach for Jake. “Tell us who did it.” There's a steel edge to Van's words and Billy almost feels sorry for the bastard that hurt Jake.

He sees the fear flicker across Jake's face.

Almost.

“It wasn't a who.”

Billy sends Van a confused glance but doesn't linger, turns his attention back to Jake.

“Then – it was – a what?”

Jake nods. “Exactly. A what.” He takes a moment to collect himself, then looks first at Billy, holding his gaze for a beat before turning it to Van.

“A werewolf. It was a werewolf.”

 

 

Jake doesn't move once he's said it out loud. It's the first time he's done that and it only happened because he can't think of a lie that Billy or Van would believe. Especially Van, who can tell when Jake isn't telling the truth better than most anyone aside from his parents.

Van searches his eyes, leans closer to him and his scent wraps itself through Jake's mind and inside, makes something dark move under his skin. He flinches, sees the way it makes Van's eyes dim and he hates it. He hates it so much.

“I'm sorry. I don't – I don't know why -”

Billy looks pale, scared and Jake knows it's because he _doesn't_ believe what Jake said. He fears that his friend is crazy. Jake can't blame for that either. He probably would have the same reaction.

Van stands, moves across the room. Jake has to bite down on the need to be next to him, to taste him. A vision of Van, back arched, lips swollen, pressed against Jake assaults his mind and it startles a moan out of him. When he opens his eyes, Van is staring at him, gaze hot. Jake swallows, waves his hand and curls his feet under him. If he can just make himself as small as possible, he could keep it all under control.

“Jake, you do realize, man, that's just not – if something happened that you can't tell us, that's okay.”

Jake lets out a hysterical giggle.

“I told you I got bit by a werewolf. I think it's safe to say I would tell you pretty much anything.”

Billy glances at Van and Jake does the same. He knows he's going to be alone in this but he needs to at least warn them.

Van is watching him closely.

The silence in the room is choking him and Jake wants Van to say something. Anything. It doesn't matter what as long as he speaks. Van is never quiet. It's unnatural.

“It happened that night?”

That wasn't what he expected, makes him have to tamp down on the hope that rises in his chest that maybe, just _maybe_ , Van won’t turn him away. Again.

Jake nods. “I had just gotten off the phone with Billy.” It's like a reel being played inside his head. He can see himself driving, the full moon, the dark road. That moment when he was hit, the panic at thinking that was the end. “Somewhere close to the bottom of the road, something hit my car and I – I skidded, lost control, almost fell off the side of the mountain.”

He glances at Van, pauses at the way his hands are curled into fists, at how he looks so pissed that Jake thinks there should be steam coming out of his ears.

“What the fuck were you doing on that road, Jake?” He seethes and it brings up his own defenses.

“I'm a grown man, Van. I don't need to explain my decisions. Yeah, I admit it probably wasn't my best one but you get no say in them.”

Van opens his mouth to argue but Billy cuts him off. “So what happened after that?”

He tells them about the blood on the car, the figure he saw on the road. About running into the only cover he saw. He skipped over the gory details of the attack. He did mention Gabe and Drake. How they rescued him.

“They killed it.”

Billy's eyebrows shoot up. “They _what_?”

Jake sighs. “They killed it – her. To save me. And now – apparently, she had a husband – Gabe called him her mate – and he's -”

“What, Jake?”

He can't met Van's gaze. “He's after me.”

“To what?”

Jake looks at Billy and his friend's face has lost all color. “This is – Jake, you realize this is completely crazy, don't you?”

“Yeah.”

Van walks to his windows, arms crossed over his chest. Jake can sense him. Can hear his breathing, can almost taste him even from across the room. It scares him how aware he is of everything Van does. That it sends raw want through his body. Makes him ache so much worse than ever before.

“Gabe and Drake, they took me in, got me patched up, helped me get here. They're trying to help – they are,” he insists when Billy gives him an incredulous stare. “I know you don't understand or believe.”

He takes a moment, looks down at his hands when he speaks. “I can feel it inside me. This rage. It's a dull whir in my head. Sometimes, it's like I'm seeing everything through a foggy window. I don't know – I can't explain it but I know it's not me. Not _just_ me.”

He meets Van's eyes. “I'm not going to be able to control it.”

Billy drops his head onto his hands, makes a pained noise and Jake touches his arm, his gaze never straying from Van's.

“I understand if you don't believe me.”

Van's eyes widen and he shakes his head making Jake's heart drop, has to look away. He can't do this alone.

“Of course I believe you, moron.”

Jake whips his head up, locks eyes with Van, heart beating so fast in his chest he thinks it might break free from it. “I – really?”

Van rolls his eyes, starts to move closer then thinks better of it. “I know that there are things in this world we can't explain. I know you've been hurt. I know you don't lie to me.” Van swallows and smiles softly. “I believe you.”

Billy stands up. “I need – to go – there.” He rushes out of the room into the hallway that leads to Van's bedroom. Jake hears the door shut behind him.

Being alone with Van makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. He rakes his gaze from Van's head, pauses at the way his chest raises and falls, the dark shadows of his nipples through the white shirt. He knows the muscles on his stomach, remembers the way they felt pressed against him.

“Jake.”

He brings his gaze up to Van's at the rough edge in his voice, sees the heat aimed at him.

Van hesitates for a moment, starts and stops his way toward Jake until they're only a few feet apart.

“Is – are you afraid of me? Do you think -”

Jake shakes his head. “No. I'm scared that I will hurt _you_.”

Van snorts.

“You never would.”

Before he can respond, his cell phone rings and he fumbles in his jacket to pull it out. The number isn't one he knows but he can't take any chances not answering it.

“Hello?”

“Jake.”

It's Drake.

“Hey, yeah. I'm here.”

“We know.” Drake says, amusement lining his words, “Have you spoken to Van, yet?” Jake had filled Drake in on where he was going and with who.

“Yeah. I have. He's taking it – pretty well, considering.”

“Well, that's a blessing, isn't it?”

Jake nods, clears his throat and ignores the narrowed glare Van is giving him. He can deal with that in a minute. He's kind of worried about his reactions since he got there.

“Drake. I think – something is going on.”

There's a long pause before Drake asks, “What do you mean?”

He turns his back on Van, speaks quietly. “I can feel it – inside – but it's not – it's not like before. It only happens –” He senses Van shift behind him and swallows hard. “It's Van. I – when he's near me –“

“You need to be near him?”

Jake blinks. “Yes.”

He didn't understand that until Drake said it but that was it. He _needs_ to be near Van.

The silence that greets that answer scares him.

“Drake?”

“Yeah. Jake, you already know.”

He does. Or at least he thinks he understands. He swallows, closes his eyes. It was something Jake had known even before any of this.

“He doesn't want it.”

“That's not how it works. If it wasn't right, you wouldn't feel it.”

Van takes a few steps, stands right behind him and Jake leans back toward the heat that seems to radiate from him.

He makes a broken sound when Van's hand rests on his hip.

“That's – Jake. It's – wow. Okay, listen to me. Stay there, okay? Don't go anywhere. Gabe and I are going to take the first flight out...” Jake hears grumbling in the background, raises an eyebrow when Drake's tone changes to something he can't quite understand. He's back on the line before Jake can ask anything. “We'll be there soon.”

The call cuts off, makes Jake open his eyes to glance down at Van's hand skimming over his bandages. He grips the phone tight and tries to breathe through it.

“You're bleeding.”

Jake nods.

“Sit the fuck down.” Van pushes him down on the couch, making Jake grimace slightly. Van stops, frowns as he looks at him, his lips a thin line of anger. “You need a doctor.”

Jake shakes his head. “What exactly will I say? These aren't wounds you can just explain away. Besides, they're better.” At Van's disbelieving grunt, Jake glances up, feels the stutter in his chest that he associates with Van. Always with Van. Only with Van. “I'm sorry for dropping all this on you, man.” He wishes he'd thought it through more. Van was in danger now. “I didn't have anywhere else to go.”

Van's face softens, his eyes warming and Jake can see his friend in that expression. “Don't be stupid. You can always count on me.” He stares at him for another few seconds, then shaking his head, disappears into his room.

Jake rests his head back against the couch, tries to force his muscles to relax, to let down his guard. It doesn't work but he concentrates on breathing.

There are too many thoughts going through his mind, each worse than the one before, and it's all he can do not to lose it completely.

What the hell was he going to do with his life now?

The press of a hand on his cheek startles him, makes Jake jump, his eyes flying open. He meets Van's worried gaze, throat drying out at how close he is. Jake can smell him, another churn of jealousy at the scent of someone else on his skin. The heat radiating from Van seeps into his own skin and sends his nerves blazing.  
He groans deep, scoots further away but Van frowns, line of confusion lining his forehead. Jake needs to stop looking at him so he forces his stare down, noting the first aid kit now open on Van's lap. He's holding a fresh bandage.

“We need to change that.”

Jake wants to shake his head, is going to give an emphatic “hell _no_ ” but Van is quicker. He sets everything aside, reaches out and starts to unbutton Jake's shirt. Jake grits his teeth, breathes harshly whenever Van's fingers brush against his skin. Van moves him around, helps his remove his arms from the sleeves and sets his shirt on the table.

Their eyes meet briefly before they each look away.

Jake holds in another moan as Van tries to remove his bloody bandage, hisses at the warmth caressing his side and Van freezes, whispers, “Am I hurting you?”

He lets out a tight laugh. “No.”

Van watches him for a second before he continues, extra careful when he gets the bandage sticking to his skin off. He cleans off the wound and Jake closes his eyes so he doesn't stare at Van's fingers as they work.

He has a thing for Van's hands.

It's faster going to get the new bandage on and before he knows it, they're done. He opens his eyes to thank Van but the words gets stuck in his throat at the look he catches on Van's face.

Jake can't describe it. Won't believe it.

The want inside flares into an unbearable degree and he surges forward, grabs the back of Van's head hard, drags him closer. Van gasps into his mouth when Jake brings their lips together. He doesn't press down, lets them hover there, tasting Van's breath. His whole body trembles, pushes for him to mount Van, to take him on the couch, or the floor or wherever he can.

“Okay, I think I’m -- oh.” Billy stops in the doorway, eyes wide as he takes in the scene which Jake can only imagines looks pretty incriminating. “I’ll just--” It clears his head and letting go completely, stands, putting distance between them.

“No, it’s okay.”

He can see Van trying to compose himself so he looks at Billy, nods once. “You feeling better?”

Billy snorts. “Shouldn’t that be my question?”

Jake tries to smile but can’t quite make it. He wants to reach for Van, taste his skin, his breath, it’s this throbbing pain and he doesn’t know how to make it better any other way.

Van looks at him then flicks his gaze over to Billy. “I think we all need some rest. Sleep. Jake’s friends will be here in a few hours. Maybe we should --”

Billy nods, eyeing Jake carefully. “Yeah, I got to say you look ready to fall, man.” He reaches for Jake, hugs him gently, dropping a kiss to his temple. “I’m so fucking glad you’re alive.”

Jake returns the hug. “Me, too.”

When he steps back, Van is looking away, jaw tense, arms crossed. He must sense Jake and looks at him, eyes blazing with something Jake can’t describe, doesn’t have the energy to try to figure out.

Billy clears his throat. “I can crash on the floor if you want to take the couch, Van. Jake should probably get the bed.”

Van stares at Billy. “There’s a guest room, Billy. You sleep there.”

Jake turns to Van. “I’ll sleep out here. It’s fine.”

“The hell you will.” Van looks angry, lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re sleeping in my bed.”

“Van, I’m not going to kick you out of your own --”

Van glares at him as he walks toward the hall that led to the rooms. “Who said you were?”

Jake’s heart speeds up, head shaking before he can control it. “No. I -- we-- no, Van.”

The laugh he receives goes straight down his spine, hot and on the edge of dark, it surprises Jake with its intensity. Van stares at him, head tilted. “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight, Jake, you’re fucking crazy.”

He disappears into one of the rooms before Jake can argue.

He sighs deeply, runs a hand over his hair.

He is _so_ fucked.

 

 

Hank Davis closes another file, sighing as he drops it on the pile on his desk, trying not to think how these days the solved pile is always so much smaller than the open cases. He reads the name written in his thick block letters across the manila folder.

 _JAKE SILBERMANN._

It's admittedly one of his most frustrating cases as of late, but being a thirty-year veteran of the L.A.P.D., it's most certainly not the strangest he's ever come across. He eyes the bottom drawer of his desk, thinks of the files of missing person cases and hopes that this one doesn't end up there.

He's been working in this department for over twenty years and he knows in his gut that the Silbermann case is one of the special ones. The kind other cops won't even look at. Because if there's anything they can't explain logically, if there's even a hint of anything out of the ordinary about the circumstances, it will fall into Hank's lap.

And he prefers it that way.

There are some people he couldn't trust.

“Hey, Hank!”

He tenses slightly as he glances up, watches Hernandez making his way over to Hank's desk.

Speak of the devil...

“Hernandez. What can I do for you?”

Carlos Hernandez sits on the edge of Hank's desk, as always ignoring any sense of personal bubble, and shrugs, gives Hank his most charming grin.

It doesn't work on him.

Hank simply raises an eyebrow and waits.

Hernandez rolls his eyes, lets out what's supposed to be a bemused sigh but Hank can read people and he knows that he's annoyed, nervous. “It's a slow day. I thought I'd offer some help with any new cases you might have.”

Hank resists the snort that he wants to give. That will be the day that Carlos Hernandez did anything to help anyone else but himself. He couldn’t care less, really. But he's always stayed just this side of being too aggressive in case someone starts to suspect he's not on the straight and narrow.  
It's not like Hank doesn't already suspect Hernandez is on the take.

The problem is that he can't prove it and no matter what they spew in press releases you don't get rewarded for bringing down dirty cops.

“I'm good, Hernandez, thanks.”

He can see him working out some way to push Hank without pissing him off.

“Really? Didn't you have a missing persons case a couple of days ago?”

Hank glares at his desk then back at Hernandez. “Yeah. But seeing as this is the Missing Persons department it's not unusual.”

“Right. Of course. So nothing strange.”

Hank doesn't look over to the file he'd just discarded, keeps his gaze straight on Hernandez, shrugging casually. “No more than usual, you know.” He doesn't move when the other man pats his shoulder as if they're buddies sharing a moment.

“Well, if that changes, I mean, if you end up needing help...”

Hank nods once, watches him walk away and picks up his ringing phone. He can sense Hernandez staring at him from across the room so he goes on with what he'd been doing, preparing to go home for the day. He pauses as he moves the files around his desk, touching the edge of the Silbermann one. He shifts a stack of paper on top of it and picks them all up, opening his file cabinet to put them away. He can still sense Hernandez watching and pretends to fumble, drops the Silbermann file under the desk near his briefcase, muttering loudly as he gathers the rest of the mess and dumping it inside his desk, shutting the cabinet.

When he looks up, Hernandez is in a deep conversation with another cop so Hank shoves the discarded case file into his briefcase before grabbing it, shutting off the light and heading out the door. He doesn't look anywhere but the exit, doesn't make a move to look at the file again, curious now why Hernandez was so interested in it.

He hadn't said anything but he's been doing this long enough to know that was the information the other cop was looking to get.

The night sky is a deep purple, moon almost at the full phase, and he shivers even though the temperature is warm.

As soon as he gets home, he'll go over the file again, maybe call Silbermann's friend Billy, find out if there's something more going on.

Because if Hernandez is interested that means that his boss is... and that's never a good thing.

 

 

The sun hits his face directly and Van turns to get away. He's never been a morning person, the process of waking always taking him a long time. His mind works in increments, focusing on one sense at a time until he's fully alert.

This morning is no different as he shies from the light, scrunching his eyes closed to keep the annoyance out. His nose hits skin, solid and warm, confusing Van for all of one second before his brain recognizes the scent. Jake. Van rubs his cheek against Jake's back, eyes not yet open, and reaches out to touch. His fingers trail over and up Jake's arm to his shoulder. He can feel his breathing now, steady under his hand. He squeezes tight, the memories of the day before starting to thread through his mind.

Jake makes a noise, somewhere between a sigh and groan, turning to face Van. It makes him open his eyes, blurry vision focusing until he can make out the shadows of Jake's lashes against his cheeks. His hand falls on Jake's hip, twitches there when Jake moves closer, probably seeking Van's warmth.

Van isn't going to complain. The closer he can keep Jake the better. If it's up to him, he's never letting him out of his sight. Ever. He lets his hand run over Jake's hip, around and then under the t-shirt Jake borrowed. He places his hand Jake's back, feeling the heat of his skin and stays right there even when he sees Jake's eyes fluttering open.

His heart beats hard against his chest, something he can't name unfurling in his gut, and it's all Van can do to stop form leaning in and kissing Jake. He knows this isn't the time. That they need to concentrate on figuring out what to do now.

But he still wants.

“Hey.”

Jake is looking at him, eyes wide and open when Van meets his gaze. His lips twitch when Jake blinks to try to make sense of waking up in a bed with Van. Not that it's actually something new for them. But it's been a long time since they've gotten the chance.

“Hi,” he says quietly, starting to roll away but Van makes a protesting noise, tightens the hand splayed across Jake's back, shaking his head. Van can see the argument forming in his eyes and decides to cut it off.

“I spent twelve hours thinking that you were...just – stay.”  
Jake closes his eyes briefly before nodding and scoots closer, his hand finding purchase on Van's waist, flexes nervously. They're touching almost everywhere now and it's too much and not enough. Van tips his face up, skims lips over Jake's jaw, feels the stubble scrap across his own skin. Jake shudders, hides his face in Van's hair and takes a deep breath.

Van's fingers freeze where they were tracing circles in the dip of Jake's back and he tries not to laugh when he asks, “Did you just smell me again?” He bites his lip to keep from smiling at the embarrassed chuckle Jake gives.

“You have no idea what your scent does to me now, okay? So, just, shut up.”

Van snorts, continues his perusal of Jake's back, inching back up to trace the muscle over his shoulders. “I could get used to that little kink.”

Jake pulls back, looks at him seriously. “You won't have to. Soon as I can find a place –“

Frustration bubbles in his gut followed by the heat of anger and Van glares at Jake. “You're not going anywhere.”

“Van...”

“No. Don't 'Van' me. I'm not letting you out of my sight.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh. So you're planning to be my shadow for the rest of your life?”

Van shrugs. It's not like the idea doesn't have appeal.

“That's the dumbest thing – Van, this, whatever happens to me isn't going to be pretty. I'm going – I don't even know _what_ I'm going to do when I turn. And I _will_. Turn. There's nothing –”

“Yeah. I don't care.”

“I could hurt you!” Jake pulls away, the cold seeping into the spaces he's leaving empty and Van scowls.

“Not going to happen. You wouldn't.”

Jake pinches his nose, head leaning back against the headboard and Van knows that look. He's counting to ten before he starts talking so he doesn't say something he can't take back. He uses that opportunity to finish what he's been trying to say.

“I love you.”

Jake nods. “I know but...”

Van shakes his head. “No you don't. I'm _in_ love with you.”

Jake jerks his head up so fast, Van swears he hears a creak, and stares at him with a gaping mouth.

And okay, yeah. Probably not the best time but Van's known this for a while, too chicken shit to admit it to anyone, but now things are different. If Jake had died... if that thing had killed him...

“I know. This is not the right moment but I don't know what else I can say so that you _hear_ me.” Van moves over and up, leans in so that he's looking straight into Jake's eyes. “I'm not going anywhere. Okay? This is you and me.”

He waits to see if that bit of truth sinks in.

It's always been them.

 

 

“This is you and me.”

Jake can't – he can't handle this. Not now. Because he'd asked before. And Van had said...he'd...

“You said no.”

He sees Van's gaze soften, eyes going sad and his head butts against Jake's shoulder, the contract shocking him. He clenches the sheets in his hands to stop from touching, goes against every instinct that tells him to claim.

“I lied.”

Jake hadn't expected that, makes a wounded noise in his throat that makes Van look up at him. He flinches when Van brushes his hand against Jake's cheek. “You told me and I just – I freaked.”

He'd broken Jake's heart.

“You told me –“

“I know what I told you.” Van makes a face, motions to Jake with his hand before letting it fall down on the bed. “You were – I thought you were confused. I mean, honestly Jake, what was I supposed to think? My straight best friend, who I've been crazy about for years, tells me he's in love with me –“

“Believe him.”

“You were _straight._ ” Van flails a little, narrows his eyes at him when Jake lets out a derisive snort.

“I _never_ said that. Everyone, including you, said that. _I_ never did!”

“You dated girls! All you dated were girls!”

“Maybe because no other guy could compare to you, dumbass!”

The knock on the door cuts off Van's response, stopping the fight and when Jake turns to look, Billy is leaning in through the partially open door, eyes wide.

“Um. Sorry. But. Jake? There are some – people here to see you.”

Jake nods as he pushes the covers away. He hates fighting with Van. It's why he'd avoided him for so long. He looks back and sees Van getting out of the bed, his movement jerky and angry. He can't deal with that right now.

Without another word, he brushes past Billy, touching his friend's shoulder as he passes, walking into the living room to find Drake and Gabe standing near the entrance.

His face breaks out into a relieved smile.

Drake grins back. “You're looking much better, Jake.”

Gabe studies him quietly, nods his agreement after a moment. “The healing is well underway, yeah. That's good. We're going to need you at full strength for the change.” He tenses and Jake feels Van stand behind him, turns to meet his eyes before looking back at his new friends.

“Gabe, this is Van.” Billy stands in the doorway, eyes narrowed as he looks at Gabe then Drake. “And that's Billy. Guys, this is Gabe and his partner Drake.”

“Mate.” They both say and Jake understands what that means but isn't sure how to respond.

Gabe's gaze falls on Van, his smirk turning the edges of his mouth up. He looks at Jake, eyes darkening then waves toward the bedroom. “Sorry to interrupt whatever is going on but you need to grab whatever you need. You're coming with us.”

Drake glares at Gabe, opens his mouth but shuts it when he meets Gabe's eyes. They have a silent conversation and when Drake looks back he nods at him. “We're going to take you with us.”

He hides his surprise as best he can but doesn't move in any direction. A big part of Jake tells him he should run, that he needs to keep this whole danger away from Van. Especially now that he knows...

But an even bigger part of him can't fathom not being with Van and it makes him a little sick to even contemplate it.

He starts to try to explain this to Gabe but Van's standing in between them, arms crossed, pinning Gabe with a look Jake has been on the receiving end of a few times. Van is settling in for a fight he has no intention of losing.

“I don't think so.”

Gabe raises an eyebrow. There's a spark in his eyes that flashes before he shutters it closed. He meets Van's glare with his own. “Really?”

Van nods curtly, moving his steady hard gaze from Gabe to Drake and back. “Yeah, really. You're not taking Jake anywhere. He stays with me.” Billy's standing on Jake's other side, his stance defensive, one hand on Jake's shoulder like he's afraid that someone will snatch him.

Drake moves closer to Gabe but he remains relaxed. At least, that's what it looks like from the outside. Jake knows him well enough to see the tension in his hands. He'll protect Gabe if he has to. It's what they do.

Gabe takes a step forward, keeps his eyes steadily on Van. “And who's going to stop me? You? What exactly do you think you can do?”

“Whatever I damn well have to,” Van grits out, taking a step closer to Gabe and staring him down.

There's more going on than Jake gets but he can't have Gabe scaring Van. He's taking Van by the shoulder, pulling him back and turning him around before he can re-think the idea. “Hey, hey. Listen to me. It's gonna be alright. They won't hurt me.”

“You're not leaving me. No. It's not happening.” He glances back at Gabe, scowls before meeting Jake's eyes. He misses the look of satisfaction on Gabe's face but Jake sees it. Billy chimes in right then.

“I'm so with Van on this. There's no fucking way we're letting you out of our sight after we almost lost you, man. Fuck that noise.”

Jake gives him a half smile and when he looks down at Van, it breaks into a bigger one. He reaches out to push the stray hair off Van's forehead, cups his cheek softly. “It'll work out.”

Van's brow furrows and he leans into Jake’s touch. “I'm not leaving you. Period.”

Jake's gaze flicks up to Gabe when he clears his throat. He seems to be nodding at whatever Drake is saying in his ear. “Good to hear that you're willing to fight for Jake. He's going to need that.”

Billy and Van exchange a glance then study Jake before turning to Gabe. Van holds his hand up. “Wait, wait. Was that some fucking test?”

Drake grins, shrugs. “Just wanted to make sure Jake could count on you when he needs it.”

Jake wraps his arms around Van's waist, pulls him closer when he starts to retort angrily. “Of course he can – what the hell --”

Gabe actually smiles, cuts Van off before he can get going. “Man, you're going to be a fun one. I can tell already.” He holds Jake's gaze, his smile turning genuine. “You've picked yourself a hell of a mate, Jakey.”

It's all white noise after that.

 

 

Van hates Gabe.

From the first moment he opened his stupid loud bossy mouth, Van has wanted to punch him in it. And he's generally not a violent man but the guy brings it out in him.

It wasn't bad enough that after he shows up at Van's apartment and demands that Jake leave with him (and that was going to happen when hell froze over), he scares the shit out of Jake, making him almost pass out. Logically Van realizes that part of that was probably because Jake is a stubborn asshole who doesn't know when he needs to take it easy. But he can't yell at Jake, not after what's he's been through and definitely not after he was scared enough to pass out.

He doesn't have the same issue when it comes to the two people standing in front of him. He glances down at Jake's form, splayed on his couch, and then flicks his gaze over to Billy's face, worried.

He whirls around, points one finger at Gabe, letting out a low snarl. “Get the fuck out. Now.”

He sees the other man step forward, hands splayed out in front of him. “We're only here to help him.”

Van snorts but before he can reply, Jake's hand is pulling at his and he turns his attention where it's needed. He sits on the edge of the couch, one hand cupping Jake's face. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Jake nods. “Yeah, stop yelling. It's not Gabe's fault that happened.” He looks sheepish as he sits up, his smile a little awkward. “I probably should have slept more.”

“You think?” Van retorts and then brings a hard glare down on Gabe when he laughs softly.

“Oh, you two are going to be interesting.”

His gaze softens when the other man – Van thinks his name is Drake but right now he really could care less – stands next to him. Their eyes are serious, faces tight as they watch them carefully.

“Drake isn't lying, Van. We're here to help him. He’s ours now, too.”

Van's stomach twists, chest constricting at that because Jake isn't anyone but his if he's anybody's.

Drake seems to catch his train of thought and shakes his head, grins quickly. “He means clan. We claim him as one of ours because he's going to need us to back him up eventually.”

Jake sighs as he stands, unsteady on his legs but he holds on to Van's shoulder, leans in a little into Van's side. “Guys, I don't --”

“It's not a choice, Jake. We've got one week to prepare for your first change.”

Van tries to breathe, feels the way Jake's arm tenses around his waist. Billy makes an unintelligible sound that Van understands completely.

“You said there was something I could take...that would make it stop...” Jake says, voice breaking in between words. He's scared and Van hates that more than anything.

Drake sighs, huge green eyes sadder than they were a minute ago and Van's chest tightens even more.

“The suppressors don't stop it from happening. They help you control it.”

“You still change, Jake.”

Jake's laugh is humorless, makes Van grab his hand tightly and he glances over to meet his eyes. He needs Jake to know he's in this with him but he won't meet Van's eyes, keeps them locked on the floor.

Billy clears his throat, breathes deep and nods at Drake. “Maybe you can explain this to us all.”

So they sit together as Drake lays it out for them. Jake will change, that can't be stopped. But they'll be there to get him through it, make sure he doesn't hurt anyone. It'll take three days for it to pass and once that happens they have enough time for the suppressors to take effect.

“It usually takes about three weeks.”

“Then what happens?” Billy asks, looking over at Jake. “It'll just keep him like he is, right?”

Gabe sets down the beer he'd gotten from the fridge and shakes his head. “Not exactly. It helps to restrain the animal inside but we'll have to teach Jake how to control it.”

“Once he can then it'll be easier to keep it that way and eventually it becomes second nature.”

Van doesn't look at them, eyes steady on Jake, when he asks, “Does that mean that you can become – you can turn into your wolf state when you want to?”

There's a long pause and he flicks his gaze to Gabe who is staring at him intently.

“Most of us can, yes. We usually don't chose to. It's not exactly a pleasant experience to change. Avoiding that is pretty much our goal but not everyone thinks that way.”

“That's what happened to me, right?” Jake finally says, sounding steadier than he had when the conversation had started. “You said she was a hunter. That she did it often.”

Gabe scowls, gives Jake a curt nod. “Not every day or anything but she killed enough.”

Silence falls after that and Van wants to make Jake go with him into his bedroom, get into the bed and under the covers, tangled together until it goes away. He knows better though and brings his full attention to Drake.

“How can we help?” He doesn't even look over at Billy because it's a given that he'll be there to support Jake, too.

Jake shakes his head. “You won't. Drake and Gabe can handle it, Van. I'm not putting you in any more danger.”

“It's cute that you think you have a say, man.” Billy says, laughing at the glare he receives from Jake.

Van doesn't even dignify that with a response. He keeps his eyes on Drake.

He sees Drake and Gabe exchange a smile before Gabe scoots up in his chair, looking back and forth between Van and Billy. “You have to understand that there's a good chance you could get hurt... maybe even worse, so you need to be sure about this.”

Billy nods. “I'm in.”

“Billy...”

“I said I was in.” He gives Jake a dirty look that makes the other man shut his mouth quickly.

Van leans forward and meets Gabe's curious stare. “Duly noted. Now, what do we have to do?”

He tunes out Jake's protest as Gabe starts to tell them everything that'll happen and what they'll need to be prepared for.

 

 

Miguel was never a superstitious person. His mami made him wear a medallion with “La Virgincita” around his neck as he was growing up for protection. It still sits there but more out of habit than any real belief he may have about its powers. He became a cop to gain that. Maybe he's not the best one. His choices in recent years have made him accept that fact.

His nose may not be clean but he provides for his own and in the end that's all he cares about.

But right now, standing in the foyer, shuddering at the stillness surrounding him, it's pretty clear his mother might have been onto something.

The doors are huge, made of dark oak, expensive and thick, dangerous looking and he adjusts his holster as he steps through them into the well-light room. He wasn't expecting that from the look of the room outside, which was dark, only shadows creeping around the corners.

The house gives him the fucking creeps but he needs to get this over with.

“Good evening, Detective Hernandez.”

He refrains from jumping out of his skin because experience as a cop helps you deal with the unexpected but it's a close call. Shivers crawl over his arms and he holds them in. He can throw up once he gets back to his car.

He ignores the voice that adds the _if_ to that thought.

Standing near the door is his best option should anything go wrong. Miguel can barely make out the top of his host's head over the back of the chair. It's a good tactic, keep control by being scary as shit. This guy has it down like an art.

“Yeah, good evening. Is there a specific reason you wanted me to come here?” He keeps his tone neutral, hopes it hides the fear underneath but he's pretty sure the other man can sense it.

The chair spins and he's thrown by how young this man looks even though he really shouldn't, not at his age. The gray eyes are like steel, cold and hard, making him shiver despite his best efforts.

“Of course I have a reason, Miguel. I would not waste your time. I understand how precious it is in your line of work. I wanted to find out what information you have garnered since we last spoke.”

He nods, clears his throat. “I went through that idiot Davis' files this morning but didn't find anything worthwhile. There's a case he took a few days ago that seemed to just disappear though. I remember hearing the desk sergeant talk about it. But there are no records for it. Anywhere.”

Those eyes widen and he sees the gleam of teeth. “Maybe we need to pay your colleague a visit. Do you think that would help us?”

Miguel's never liked Hank. Mostly because the old geezer hated him on sight, could see right through his charms. But he's a good cop, better than Miguel can ever be, and he has a family, kids that he knows are close to him. He's respected at the precinct, has enough commendations that he's known. He'd be missed if he disappeared.

“We can't kill him.” It comes out fast and he receives a bigger grin than the one before, makes him swallow down some bile.

“I would never think of doing that, Detective Hernandez. That's against the law, of course.” He picks up the cup of deep amber liquid sitting just to his side on the desk and raises it up in a salute. “But I think we could get Detective Davis to agree to give us the information.”

Miguel nods, chokes on the words he wants to say and attempts to clear his throat, makes a gurgling sound that he hates. “That could be arranged.”

“Wonderful.”

He starts for the door, not wanting to acknowledge anything else and stops when his name is called out. He clutches the doorknob in his hand, half-turns to look back. “Yes?”

“Did you catch a name by any chance? Of that case that you said disappeared.”

It's a long shot but he figures it would buy him time. “Not the whole name but I think it's something like Silverman.”

The flash of teeth this time is brighter, larger and Miguel hopes that he can get out of there before they sink into his flesh. He's pretty sure that's going to be the case. His hand reaches for the gold medallion laying on his chest, holding on to it as he hears the low, happy sound of a chuckle behind him.

“Excellent.”

He leaves at a fast jog out of the door and into his car.

Whatever he's caught up in isn't going to end well.

That much he's sure of.

 

 

His first transformation is less than a week away and Jake wants to run as far as he can. It doesn't help that Gabe refuses to sugarcoat anything. He knows it's best to know what they'll be up against. But sometimes he feels like he's being tested.

Jake doesn't want to be ungrateful but he's already scared of what he's capable of doing. He doesn't need a constant reminder.

“Van, do you have any kind of self-defense training?”

Van scowls, flicks his gaze toward Jake before he looks back at Gabe, nodding. “Yeah. I took some classes in college.”

“Drake, make sure he gets a refresher. Billy, how about you?”

Billy nods slowly. “Kickboxing. Every week.”

“Good. Then, you're going to stick with me during the change. We'll make sure Jake doesn't get loose.” He points in Drake's and Van's direction. “You two will be back-up. If he happens to get out of his chains I don't want you trying to take him down or anything.” He writes something on the blackboard he'd dragged into Van's apartment from who the hell knew where. “You're going to be insurance.”

“What do you mean insurance?”

Gabe digs inside the canvas duffel he'd brought. Jake swears the damn thing is bottomless. There's a gun in one hand and before he can say anything, Van stands up from where he'd been sitting on the couch. “No. No fucking way in hell. I am not going to shoot anyone.”

Drake raises a hand. “That's not what it's for.” He gestures at the small case that Gabe is opening and he recognizes the tranquilizer shots. He's not sure how he knows what they are. “Those will just slow him down enough to stop him from hurting anyone.”

Billy runs a hand through his hair. “Jesus.”

“Listen up, kids.” Gabe says, staring hard at them.

Jake can see Van’s hackles go up and he walks over to sit next to him, placing his hand on Van's knee. He feels the tension seep out of it when he rubs his thumb gently over it.

“I know this hard. Believe me, I get that. But I'm not doing this for fun, okay?” Gabe waves a hand around the air that encompasses himself and Jake. “What we are is not pretty. It's not easy. It sure as hell isn't something we chose but we have to deal with it.”

Jake closes his eyes and breathes slowly.

When he opens them again, Gabe is standing in front of him. “This isn't ever going to go away. But I promise that after you've completed your change, it gets better. You'll learn to control it. That's what we're here for.” He reaches a hand out, touching Jake's shoulder. “I'm not going to let you hurt anyone.”

He believes him.

Gabe turns his stare to Van. “He won't either.”

Jake glances at Van and sees him nodding, eyes locked on Jake's face. “I'll do whatever I have to.”

Jake's heart jumps to his throat, beating like it's going to explode and he wants to tell Van that he can't say that. He can't put himself in danger. It's not something Jake can handle.

“And it's really not going to matter what you say about it, Silbermann. I love you. So I have every right to do protect you.” Van shifts closer, leaning into Jake and his warmth soaks into Jake's skin. “What do you need us to do?”

Jake looks up at Gabe and the grin he receives is more than surprising.

“First, we're going to need to find a solid place to lock Jake up in.”

 

 

They stare into the empty, fenced-in storage unit that Van remembers belongs to him. He's never used it before. He'd barely had anything when he'd first moved into his place and never gotten around to buying anything more than what he needed anyway.

The unit is like one big cage. He watches Drake and Gabe test the walls, shaking them with a great deal of force. They shake violently, and for one second Van thinks they might give. Gabe studies them intently then nods. “I think this will be good.”

Van lets out a long breath. “You're sure? I mean, this building isn't new.”

Drake nods. “Exactly. The materials they used to build it are strong. Real metal, not the different million alloys they use now. It's meant to last a long time.”

“It'll be strong enough to hold me?” Jake asks, standing right behind him. Van shivers at the heat he can feel from him and stops from shifting back just to get closer to it.

“It should. We'll make sure to have a lock that can withstand it.” He looks back at Drake. “Maybe you can set up a spell? Something for extra protection.”

“Already working on it.”

Gabe flashes him a smile, winking quickly before schooling his face back to his normal scowl. Van stopped buying his act a few days ago when he'd found him sitting at his kitchen table, wary and vulnerable. He was scared for Jake. Van had sat with him, poured his own fears out and Gabe assured him that they would do everything to make sure that Jake came out of this in one piece.

That they all would.

It didn't make his fears go away but he felt, for the first time, that he wasn't alone in keeping Jake safe.

 

 

Jake is so tired.

A week of preparation on top of his training – because Drake insists he's going to need to learn to defend himself eventually, so why not start right away – and avoiding Van was enough to completely exhaust him.

It was hard to not be alone with Van.

The apartment is only so big and he can't go outside at all in case someone recognizes him or whatever. Gabe had explained (or more like yelled the first time Jake tried to get the paper) and Jake wasn't about to go through that again. He’s going a little stir crazy but it's for the best.

The dining room has been turned into the training room. He can make out the grunts from Billy and Drake's lesson. There's a click of metal against metal. They're using the swords again. Jake resists a laugh when he thinks of what happened to Van's bookcase the last time they used those.

The living room is Gabe's room. He has plans and strategies laid out all over the coffee table, pinned to walls. He's constantly yelling into his phone. He makes sure Jake gets a report every night of where they are. It's reassuring and Jake can't be happier that he met him and Drake. They've been lifesavers.

Van sticks to the kitchen and the study he hadn't even wanted when he rented the place. He locks himself in there for a few hours every day. When he comes out, he's usually sweaty, flushed and out of breath. Jake has to look away from him before he forgets his promise to not touch Van.

Not until he knows it's safe.

He's grateful that the bedroom is his haven. He practices the techniques Drake teaches him to rein in his animal. Jake hasn't mastered it yet. He's not sure how he'll be able to after his change but Gabe tells him that he will.

Three days and then he'll be able to get back to normal.

Van hands him a glass of juice, makes him jump slightly then whispers his apology. He drops the pills into his other hand then leaves the room like he had come in. Jake watches him go, swallows the suppressors and counts to twenty like he's supposed to when he feels the stirrings. He wants to touch Van, kiss until they can't breathe, throw him against a door, the floor, their bed – and it is theirs – and fuck him until all he can taste is Van.

Three days.

 

 

Billy walks into the kitchen, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and stops dead in his tracks.

There are guns lying on the table, chains wrapping around the chair that Gabe is sitting in and everyone is eating their breakfast, talking about their upcoming night.

He shakes his head and walks to the bathroom. He needs a shower.

 

 

Drake and Gabe take him aside that morning, leading him towards the bedroom and locking the door when they're all inside.

“It's time.”

Jake panics, eyes widening, his breathing going erratic until Gabe places a hand on his shoulder. “No, man. I didn't mean that. We want to talk to you about what's going to happen, okay?”

He tries to calm down, nodding for Gabe to continue. He needs to hear this. Wants to know what will happen when he's not in control of his own body anymore. Be prepared for what will come.

Drake sits next to him, squeezes his arm quickly but doesn't say anything.

Gabe takes his position in a chair he pulls up to the edge of the bed, cracks his neck and then says, “It's going to hurt like hell, Jake.”

He blanches, stares at Gabe, words stumbling on his tongue. “I – what – can't – what?” He couldn't have heard him right. It's like his mind can't process it.

“Listen to me. Turning – your change – isn't like how they show it in movies. It doesn't happen in a couple of minutes. The process takes hours, Jake. And it hurts. Starting with a fever and shakes, hallucinations at times, then once the animal takes over, there's restructuring. Bones are going to break, your skin is going to feel like it's falling off and burn. The pain is going to be immense.”

Jake covers his face with one hand. “Oh god.”

Drake pats his shoulder soothingly. “We're going to take precautions beforehand. Gabe will administer some pain killers so it won't hurt as much in the beginning. How much that will work we don't really know but we'll be here to monitor.”

“I want – can--” He cuts his own words off. The wish is selfish and he won’t ask it.

“Van already insisted on being there so don't worry about it.”

Jake shakes his head even though it's exactly what he wants.

“It'll be fine, Jake. Once you've completely turned and don't need him anymore he'll go upstairs with Billy. We'll take care of the rest.”

He can't look either of them in the eye, afraid of what he might see there. “How long will it last?”

“Typically the first time the change occurs for the two days surrounding the moon, you'll be unable to control the beast. We're going to make sure he stays inside.”

“So, I have to be locked up for three days?”

“You're not going to be able to move, Noah. Not for the first few transformations. That's why we'll be there to make you more comfortable.” Drake touches his head lightly. “Once you've gotten past this, we'll have time for the suppressors to kick in and the basics of containing the animal.”

Gabe picks up where Drake ends. “With time you'll learn how to control it and be able to use it when necessary but for right now, we need to concentrate on getting you through this.”

He can't think about the future. All he can do is get through this without hurting anyone he cares about.

Jake wipes his hands over his jean-clad legs.

“Okay. I'm ready.”

 

 

They've been preparing for this for days and Van believed that he knew what to expect. Drake had gone into details, excruciating as they had been to hear, and Van was grateful.

Because what's happening to Jake is one of the worst things Van has ever seen. He swallows back the tears that are clogging his throat, returns his attention to passing the cool towel over Jake's sweating, shivering body. His hand is shaking as he brushes the cloth over Jake's chest, ignoring the moan of pain that he can hear.

“V-Van.” Jake speaks through chattering teeth, curls further into the fetal position he's been in for hours, his head lying on Van's leg. Gabe had tried to get him to leave but it seems like having Van there helps Jake. He doesn't want to think what it means when he overhears Drake whisper “mates” as he glances over at the two of them huddled together on the floor behind the locked storage door.

They'll deal with that when they get past this.

He caresses Jake's face gently, runs fingers over his damp hair and leans down to press his nose against Jake's cheek. “What do you need, baby?” He grabs the flailing hand that reaches for him, folding their fingers together. “Tell me.”

Jake opens his eyes, grimaces as he tries to speak, like it hurts him even to try which Van knows it does. “It-it's—time. You-you need to-to go.”

“Like hell.”

A shadow falls over them and Van glances up to see Gabe staring down. “Van.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

The door swings open, Gabe inside before Van can blink, bending to look him in the eye. “I get this is difficult. Man, trust me that I do. But this isn't about you, it's about him.” Gabe places a hand on Van's shoulder. “He doesn't want you to see this happen.”

He can feel Jake nodding against his thigh, the quiet muttered “Please” that falls as a sigh.

Van hates the idea that Jake had to do this alone but he doesn't want to cause him any more distress. “Okay.” He bends down, dropping a soft kiss against Jake's mouth, inhaling the soft groan that escapes. “I'm going to do what you want.”

He pushes Jake off his legs, waits until Gabe takes his place then stares until Drake clears his throat and Van turns away. Drake gives him a hug then nods to the door. “Billy is waiting.”

Van doesn't look back as he walks out the door but his heart clenches at the sounds that he leaves behind.

 

 

It hurts so much.

So much that he can't think.

He hides his face in his arms, rolls away from the unfamiliar body trying to comfort him. Hands that he doesn't know touch his arm, his shoulder and it makes him recoil. He feels nauseous, bile rising up and he sputters, exhales and throws up, shuddering against the wall.

He needs Van.

The only thing that helps is having him near. He doesn't make the pain go away but it's less. Jake can focus on his face, his scent, his heat and somehow it makes it easier to take the shifting of his bones. He can feel another one starting to fuse, claws against his skin when it burns, stretches.

It's coming faster, the loss of control of his limbs, his thoughts, consciousness and he can feel the animal inside him taking over. There's nothing he can do to stop it.

Another bone cracks and he groans loud, grabs at the cold floor and wants to die.

He's slipping further into his mind and he fights it, tries to stay where he is. But it's hard to keep it together, to stay in control. Like he's holding on to a rope that won't stay in his grip. He wants to scream but he can't.

Gabe's quiet “I'm sorry” falls in between them and then he's alone. Anger rushes through him and it's agony, like being on fire and he – he can't breathe anymore, clutches and rolls, moans turning into growls. He lets go, feels the last strands of his sanity give way and then it's dark, numb and nothing beyond.

 

 

Billy loads up the cooler with a couple of bottles of water, the sandwiches he'd made and a few of Jake's favorite snacks and then zips it up quickly. He hauls it over his shoulder, walking soundlessly to the front door. He glances into the living room, nodding with satisfaction at Gabe and Drake sprawled over the inflatable mattress he'd prepped for them as soon as sun had hit the horizon.

He steps into the hallway, locking the door with the spare key Van had given him when he'd moved in. He does a mental checklist of what else he'll need to do in the next few hours. Gabe had insisted they sleep in shifts and Billy had won the argument that seeing as Gabe and Drake had been the ones dealing with – it firsthand that they were first.

The elevator in the building is one of the really old ones that Billy hates riding. It's one of those fears you have but don't mention. He pulls the small key Drake handed him, on his way to falling down from exhaustion, and fits it into the control panel, pressing down on the button for the basement. It whirs to a start making him jump a bit.

He really needs to get over that shit.

Once he delivers the food and checks that Jake is doing okay, he needs to go to the store. There's a list of things they're going to need to have replenished and –

The car stops with a creak, doors sliding open. Billy forces one foot in front of the other, keeps his eyes on the floor, takes the turn down the dimly lit hall that leads to the back recesses of the basement. He breathes in a shaky breath, tries not to think about what he may find. He doesn't understand how the whole “change” thing works. If his friend is going to look any different...

He's been trying not to think about it for the last few days. It's not denial exactly. Billy is aware that it's true. He'd caught part of last night's activities, watched Jake start to transform before Gabe had yelled at him to get the hell out.

But Billy is good at compartmentalizing when he has to. It makes crazy shit like this easier to deal with.

He'll deal with wanting to punch a wall or wanting to hide under the bed later.

When he enters the room, his step falter and he smiles despite the fact that this insanity is actually happening. If this doesn't prove to both his idiot friends that they are supposed to be together forever and a day, he has no idea what will.

Jake and Van are inside the cage, for safety's purposes. His gaze falls on the two of them, sitting on the floor, Jake leaning back against Van's chest, eyes closed but Billy can see he's alert by the tense line of his neck. His eyes flit away from the healing scars across his chest and arms, settling on Van's face. He's concentrating on the story he's quietly reading but his free hand moves constantly somewhere on Jake. Like Van needs to make sure Jake is still with him.

Billy gets that totally.

Once this is over, he's having a serious talk with Jake.

Werewolf curse or not, he's so not going to let those two fuck this up anymore.

 

 

Drake limps into the apartment. He glances up at Billy and Van, shakes his head when they rush forward. His right arm is bleeding. Van's eyes widen but he waves him away. “He broke the chains but it's okay. He didn't bite me. Just a few scratches.”

They'd gotten lucky if he was honest. Jake had been inches from sinking his teeth into his arm.

Gabe had thrown him out, told him to fix his arm and get some rest. He would have argued but he knew that look, the one Gabe only gave when he was afraid, and decided to give him a few minutes. He hopes that when he returns downstairs in ten minutes Gabe will have calmed down enough that they won't argue about his staying through the night.

Van hands him the first aid kit, his mouth set in a firm, straight line and Drake touches his hand, waits until their eyes meet. “It's not Jake, remember?”

“I know but – will he? When he finds out that he hurt you in any way...”

Drake shakes his head. “Van, it's okay. He'll understand.” He gives his new friend a quick smile then turns back to fixing up his arm.

 

 

They're almost through this.

Van leans his forehead on the bathroom sink, breathes deep through his nose before standing. His reflection in the mirror is tired, bruises under his eyes from the lack of sleep and he's worried his bottom lip raw but...

It's almost done.

Tonight. That's all they need to get through.

He runs a hand through his hair, straightens his shoulders and shakes the exhaustion out of his head.

Tonight and they were done.

 

– –

 

Jake wakes up inside the cage for the third morning in row. The difference today is that his legs and arms aren't bound to the chains anymore. He raises his head to look around the room, finding the storage door wide open. Rolling to his feet takes effort due to the dizziness that plagues him whenever he moves. There's a deep bone ache in his arms and legs. His chest and ribs feel strange, slightly misplaced and he breathes harshly.

Drake mentioned a change in his biochemistry and bone structure after his first transformation and that eventually Jake would get used to it but the first few weeks would be hard on his system. He can believe that with the way his legs wobble, like he's relearning to walk on them.

His stomach hurts, making noises he isn't expecting.

“What are you doing?”

Van enters the room, tray in his hands and glares at him from just on the edge of the cage.

He wants to touch him so badly it's a physical ache that manages to push all the others one to the back burner.

“Standing up.”

“Don't start with me, Jake. Sit.”

Jake gives him the side-eye, smirking as he says. “I may be related to the canine species now but I'm not a dog.”

Van makes a face, shaking his head while he sets the tray down. Standing with hands on his hips, he returns his gaze to Jake, something twitching on the corners of his lips. “If it smells like a dog...”

Jake making a stabbing motion to his chest, relief and laughter lifting his doubts that this would change them. “Low blow, Hansis. Kick a man while he deals with turning into a horrible supernatural creature.”

If they can joke about this then maybe they have a chance.

Van rolls his eyes, motions for Jake to come closer and when he does, helps him take a seat next to the tray that he realizes is piled high with every kind of breakfast food: muffins, bagels, pancakes, eggs, bacon, OJ, etc. He looks up at Van and the grin he receives makes his heart stutter a little, hurts just a tad.

“Apparently you're going to need all this to re-energize. Gabe said that you should eat before we head upstairs for you to rest. So, pig out.”

He would argue that it's too much food but his stomach disagrees and he bends over the tray, shovels some into his mouth and tries not to act like the animal he might be now. He slows his chewing, glances up at Van. This has to be kind of gross.

Van smirks down. “Don't worry about it. Not any different than how you usually eat.”

The laugh that bubbles up is unexpected and he almost chokes as he rolls his eyes and returns to his meal.

 

 

The week passes in relative sanity and Van can't say he minds the quiet calm that seems to have fallen over their weird little group. Gabe flies out of town the day after Jake is “back to normal” if that's what you can call it. Drake stays behind to start on their studies. He makes sure Jake takes his suppressors every day and they meditate, working together to control Jake's baser instincts.

Van hovers close by for the first half of the week until Billy takes him aside and says they need to get out of the house. Their lives are on hold and that's not fair to anyone. Jake's past the worst and his strength is returning every day. He knows that it's true but he can't seem to be too far away from him.

“He needs me.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he does, man. But that's not why you're here. Don't get me wrong. I know you’re butt crazy in love with the dude, okay? If I hadn't before this whole jealous of Drake thing would have clued me in.”

Van scowls at Billy's way too clear assessment of what's been bothering him. He wipes a hand over his face. “That obvious?”

“Yeah, your face is kinda like a huge billboard that advertises every single thing you feel, Van. Like worst poker face in the world.”

He'd argue but Jake walks into the room, grins directly at him and his face breaks out with a grin of his own. Billy laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. You and I are getting out of here.”

Going back to rehearsals is difficult especially the first few days because his mind is back with Jake. He worries if he's eating, how the training is going, if Jake notices Van's absence. He pushes away his jealousy that Drake gets to be there with him.

It's ridiculous and petty and he's going to have to get over it.

 

 

“Is it me or is Van acting a little strange?” Drake walks toward him with eyebrows raised.

Billy snorts. “Yeah, it's you. Literally.”

It takes a whole minute for Drake's confusion to clear and then he rolls his eyes, laughs into his hands. “Those two need to get a room already.”

“This is what I've been saying for years, man.” Billy shakes his head. “But they don't ever listen.”

Drake's face is thoughtful and he glances slyly at Van. “I think we can help with that.” He turns to Billy, eyebrows raising up into his hairline. “You up for it?”

“Dude, seriously, if it gets them to stop acting like twelve-year old girls I am all for it.”

Drake grins. “Right on.”

 

 

Nothing ever works out like it should, Billy should know that by now. Their plan should be simple enough. Leave Van and Jake alone. Force them to own up to their complicated emotions and then hope they break down finally. The problem with that is they're all living in the same place, piled on top of each other. Even with Gabe back in L.A. now, it's super crowded.

Billy comes up with an idea that might just work if Drake wasn't so cautious.

“Come on, man. My apartment is like twenty minutes away. We can be here in a flash if the need occurs.”

“It's not a safe option.”

“He's looking for Jake.”

Drake gives him a 'don't be stupid' look. “If you think he doesn't know you're Jake's friend, that you were the one who went in search of him, you're out of your mind. Billy, there's no way you aren't in danger.”

He hadn't thought about. “Okay. Why don't you come with me? Be my guard or whatever, man. Seriously, it's just going to be a quick in and out situation. I just need to get clothes, check my mail and then we'll check into a motel to give these idiots some alone time.”

Drake tries to resist but Billy gives him his most disarming smile and he caves.

“Fine. Ten minutes, Billy. That's it.”

“Ten minutes.”

 

 

Jake looks between Billy and Drake, attempting to understand what the hell they‘re talking about. “You're leaving for...the night?”

Drake nods quickly, not looking directly at him and Billy shrugs, grinning like this is the best present ever.

“Why?”

He's sure he knows the answer but he wants to hear it for himself.

“Well, Billy wants to – do things and it might be really late when we get back so --”

“You and Van need to sort some shit out without us in the way. Maybe actually talk – no, actually just get it over with Jake. Tell him.”

Jake glares at Drake. He shrugs, grabs his overnight case as he follows Billy. Stopping at the door, he turns back to Jake, smiles softly. “Give him the choice, Jake.”

He's gone before Jake can respond. He rubs his face with both hands, rolls his shoulders to ease the tension that's collecting in the back of his neck. Walking to the windows, his eyes scan the street below, cars passing by silently, people going about their days like the world isn't this scary place to live in. There's danger everywhere he turns and he can't be selfish enough to ask Van to take risks with his own life.

It doesn't matter what anyone else says, whether Van is his mate and this is meant to be like Drake insists on telling him every day... There are people who want to hurt Jake. They'll use Van to do that. How could he choose the path that would put him right in the middle of it?

Something tickles the back of his head and he leans his head slightly to the left, listens carefully. Van is walking down the hall. He's startled at knowing that and he blinks at the door when Van enters, bags of groceries in his hands. He notices Jake, his smile wide and happy.

“Hey. I brought some sustenance, man. I think we've had enough takeout to last us a while.” Something must cross his face because Van sets the bags on the coffee table, joins him near the windows, mouth pulled into a frown. “Jake? You okay?”

He can see the thought run across Van's mind: he wants to touch him.

Jake stutters out a breath. Van hasn't touched him in too long and he aches, aches for it so deeply that his hands tremble when he reaches out, grips Van's shirt to bring him closer. He watches his eyes widen before they darken and Van licks his lips, takes a breath. Jake can see him weigh the decision but he's still taken aback when Van pushes in, hand curling around the back of Jake's neck, the other splaying across his back to hold him steady, make sure he can't run.

Jake stops thinking and leans down, lips parting, sighing when their mouths align, Van's taste on his tongue. Shivers of recognition, want and need converging, waves of heat smother him.

He forgets to be scared and just takes.

 

 

Drake taps his feet against the floor, glowering as Billy runs from one room to the next, gathering discarded clothes and papers, stuffing them in his knapsack.

“Ten minutes, Billy. That's what you said.”

“Oh my god, dude. Would you relax this once? If I take fifteen I don't think it'll hurt anyone.”

Drake rolls his eyes. “What are you looking for, anyway?”

“My cell phone.”

“You don't carry it around?” There's real fear in his voice and Billy glances over, pausing to frown.

“I left it here when this all started. And we've been kind of busy. Plus you were all 'Do not go home, Billy, or I will have my boyfriend eat you.' or whatever.”

“I never said that!” Drake gaps at him, insulted.

“Didn't have to, man. It was implied. Anyway, I couldn't come here so I've been using Van's mostly. And it – aha. Got it.” He pulls the phone from between the couch cushions. Last time he'd been home had been three weeks and he'd only meant to grab his clothes but he'd been tired and freaked out. The phone must have fallen out when he'd laid down for a nap.

“Okay, we can --” He cuts off and stares at the multiple calls from one number.

Drake takes a step closer. “What?”

He scrolls through the calls, notes the numerous voicemails and swallows down his panic, looking up at Drake. “I think something bad happened.”

 

 

Van can't think, not with Jake's hands roaming under his shirt, hot on his skin. All he wants is to stay there. He clutches at Jake's shoulders, tries to push closer, a need to crawl inside, to have every bit he can consumes him. This heat spreads through his limbs, makes his fingers slip on skin and muscle. Desperation tinges it but he can't stop it.

Jake seems to have different ideas about that because Van feels the press of hands on his waist, pushing gently. He shakes his head, makes a protesting noise in the back of his throat.

 _No._

He's not stopping.

He nips at Jake's mouth, licks his way in, catching the groan that escapes on his tongue. His mind is fuzzy, runs with this despite his fears.

Somehow Jake manages to pull away enough and Van has to open his eyes to see what his next move is going to be. He meets startled blue and it makes him pause. Maybe Jake didn't want this and Van couldn't force him.

He steps a foot away, hands sliding down Jake's arms. “I'm – I'm sorry. I just – wanted to—”

Jake kisses him, soft and lingering, making Van's knees wobble a little. Seriously. He didn't think that actually happened to people. His heart beats fast against his chest and his breathing is labored. When he pulls back, Jake's gaze is soft but the heat behind it burns Van wherever it touches him.

“I can't – Do you understand what this is?” One of Jake's hands thread through his hair, grips at the strands, holds him firm. “We're – you're supposed to be my mate.”

Van nods.

He gets that.

Jake locks their gazes, leans forward slowly, lips brushing soft on Van's mouth. He opens for him automatically, moans when all he receives is whispered words against his cheek. “This is supposed to be forever. Like always. When we do this --” and Van wants to smirk up at him because he's so fucking sure of everything, his Jake – “you belong to me. Period.”

There's so much more than that. Van's aware of everything that comes along with this, the connection that forges when this happens.

And he wants it more than anything else ever.

He nods, blinking slowly, breathes out his words against Jake's mouth. “One question: you're mine, too, right?”

One corner of Jake's mouth curves up into a smile. “Always have been.”

That's all he needs.

 

 

It's a blur of skin and clothes, limbs tangling, stumbling across the room until he's laying across his bed, Jake looming over him, arms caging Van in. His eyes trace the line of muscle visible, licks across the skin to taste it. There's a deep-set satisfaction at the groans that escape Jake. His hands can't seem to stop touching, sliding in every direction. Breath catching, he presses his face into Jake's neck, feels the trembling response and lets go.

All the things that held him back fall away and he grips onto Jake's neck, pulls at him until their bodies are flush against each other. It's almost like a floodgate opens inside him. Everything burns everywhere, makes it hard to breathe and he presses bruising kisses on Jake's mouth, swallows down all the noises that are coming.

Jake's fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, hold unsteady before he eases up. Van starts to protest, eyes half-lidded but when he looks up, Jake shakes his head. He knows there's a reason he can't think of through the haze of _want_ and _more_ and _yes_ running rampant in his head. In the next second, it doesn't matter because Jake's mouth surrounds his cock, licks the slit and all Van can do is grip the sheets, arching his back to keep from flying apart.

They should talk. He knows they should. Because he has things to say, words he's been too scared to say to Jake until now.

His mind is filled with just this – Jake and the way his hands hold him down to the bed, mouth working him over until he's a mass of quivering skin, breath gasping out Jake's name between groans that cut deep at them both.

It's like everything is magnified a thousand times, his heart beating too fast, his skin electrified with Jake's touch. They're supposed to be closer. He scrambles at Jake's shoulders, pulls and pulls and pulls until he can see his face, shadowed but it's his eyes that make Van pause, lit up with some inner fire, and he crashes their mouth together, teeth clanking, the metallic taste of blood, mutters softly until Jake pushes back to look down at him.

His hand caresses Van's face. “I don't want to hurt you, baby.” It's said ragged and quick, makes the needs sharpen even more and he leans up, gentle kisses over jaw and lips.

“You won't. _Please._ ”

That seems to be all Jake can take. One hand slips behind Van's head, grips tight as the other breaches his opening, fingers circling cold and wet. Van wonders briefly when Jake had found the lube, how he hadn't noticed but there's a finger working inside him and his mind whites out. It's all feelings and scents and fire and Jake. Wave after wave of it rushes at him, makes him hold tight, throw his head back and ride it out.

His legs kick at Jake's waist to make him go faster. He wants more. There's a brief pause where Jake pulls away, mutters something he can’t make out and it's too cold. He makes a noise that's more whine than anything else but then it's warmth again and he opens his eyes, watches Jake's face, focus and hunger warring there. Van feels the blunt press of Jake's cock and the stretchy sweet burn when he pushes in, hissing at the contact and stilling, meeting Van's gaze before sliding in and in and in.

“ _Fuck._ ” Van inhales harshly, makes himself relax as Jake rocks his hips until he bottoms out and they both shudder because Jake doesn't wait before pulling out and pressing back in, slow and steady. He can hear Jake's heart beating, matching his own rhythm. Feels his thoughts scattered and shivering in his mind. Tastes him across his mouth and tongue.

Van rolls his hips, hears the catch in the back of Jake's throat and does it again. The sensations are too much and he loses all sense of time. Moments pass by almost like he's watching snapshots of them, framed for him to capture. He meets Jake's thrusts, bodies fusing, skin sliding against skin. Van wraps around Jake, sucks in as much air as he can manage, gripping the back of Jake's head, fingers threading through damp curls, and holds on.

Sweat gathers in the hollow between his collarbones and Jake ducks down to taste it, pants as he gets an arm under Van's leg, folding his knee up against his chest. “You're _mine._ ” Vane lifts up to meet the next thrust and chokes on his “Yes” when Jake snaps in hard.

He wants to say so much more but Jake understands, gets him like he always has and there's nothing more they need. Jake presses his wet, open mouth against Van's throat, one hand fumbling between them to grip Van's cock, jerking in a stuttered rhythm, leaning heavily on one elbow as he fucks him fast and hard and deep.

Van's thoughts scatter, break apart as he grips hands on the sheets, Jake's name a mantra and it burns burns burns, pulls at him, shatters him, the world whiting out as he comes. He feels Jake fall right after, the waves suffocating until he's gulping air, holding on when they let go together.

 

 

He can't tell how long they've laid here, limbs tangled, breathing slowly. His skin is cool, sticky and when he moves Van makes a protesting sort of noise. Arms tighten around him, keep him in place.

“I'm not going anywhere, baby, but can you move over so I'm not killing you here.”

Van slides over an inch, mumbles “I like you there” into Jake's shoulder even as he does.

That makes Jake laugh, the sound rough and low to his own ears. “Good to know.”

Van turns, face nuzzles into Jake's neck, sighs deeply, wraps arms and legs around him. “Don't run away, please.”

Jake pulls him in closer, kisses the top of his head. “I can't. Not even if I wanted to. Which, you know, don't.” Van's breath falls moist and hot across his skin, body relaxing in increments until he's pliant against Jake.

He runs a hand over Van's damp hair, curls it around his neck, listens to their heartbeat until it lulls him to sleep.

They can talk later.

 

 

Someone shakes him awake.

Van frowns, buries his face deeper into Jake's neck and squeezes his eyes closed. They just found this finally and he's not ready to step out of the peace it's bringing him. He knows that once he lets go of it, allows his mind to wake up, everything will change. He can feel it already. Jake is a part of him in a way he loves and fears at the same time. The constant tugging, even now when he's only half-way conscious, in his mind feels out of place.

“Van.”

The voice penetrates the fuzziness in his head, forces him to open his eyes and he meets Drake's worried gaze. His eye widen, gaze falling to the bed and he shifts closer to Jake, tugs the blankets higher. Drake makes an apologetic face, tips his chin toward Jake and steps away, leaves Van to the task. Jake's back presses into Van's chest, one hand tangled with Van's rests on his waist. Van sighs, kisses his neck slowly. “Jake.”

There's tension in the line of his back as he wakes up, digs his face further into his pillow and Van shakes him gently. “Baby. Come on, wake up. Drake is here.”

That seems to work and Jake eyes are open, focused in a way that shouldn't be possible for someone who'd been asleep two seconds ago. He turns to lie on his back, leans up on an elbow, rubs at his face with his free hand. The alert gaze finds Van and the smile he receives makes his heart beat a little faster, sends a wave of relief through him.

But then it's gone, set on someone else and Van ignores the sudden jolt of possessiveness that shocks him. He concentrates on Drake instead.

Jake raises an eyebrow.

“What's wrong?”

“You know that police officer? The one that helped Billy out when you were missing?”

Van sits up straighter, fingers curling into fists, throat closing up with fear. He's pretty sure he knows what Drake is about to say.

Jake frowns, flits a glance at Van then nods slightly and Van blinks at him. This whole new aspect of their relationship is going to take some time to get used to. One of Jake's hands slips into his, thumb stroking gently and he turns his attention back to Drake.

“I remember, yeah. What happened?”

Van watches the fear flicker across Drake's face and it makes his stomach drop because Drake never looks like that.

“He's missing.”

 

 

Hank strains against the ropes binding his hands and feet, flexes his wrist in an attempt to free his hands. They're looser than when he was first brought into the dark, damp room. If he can figure out a way out of this – place – he'll need to find and warn Jake. He closes his eyes, the throbbing in his ribs taking his breath away. Some of them are broken. The beatings weren't as bad now as they had been the first night they had him. Numbness has taken over, which he's grateful for. The less he feels, the clearer his mind is.

His mind wanders to his kids and what will happens to them if he doesn't make it out. If they never find his body, have any real closure as to what happens. Like all those families he's comforted over the years, the ones who he couldn't help. The files piled high in his bottom drawer, reminders of his failure. He knows almost every single one of those names and has spent his whole career trying to give them justice.

He rolls onto his shoulder, hisses when pain ricochets down his arm, blinks back tears, bites on his lip to keep from making any sound. He knows they can hear him. The longer he can pretend to be unconscious the better for him so he moves slowly, works at the ropes until his chaffed skin breaks, bleeds.

A wave of dizziness hits him and he stops, rests his head on the stone floor and breathes deep. There's dried blood caked to his face from the wound they inflicted the last interrogation. The claw marks across his back sting as he struggles to sit up. His eyes close, weakness taking over and he slumps against the wall.

He thinks of Lucy, wonders if he'll see her when this over.

It makes it easier to deal with if that's his ending.

He hears the footsteps approach, keeps his eyes on the door as the lock clangs open, the shadow stepping through. The figure looms over him, well-tailored suit hanging perfectly, face impassive, lips curled up. “Hank. Hank. What are we going to do with you?”

James Preston.

He was always a scary son-of-a-bitch.

Hank shuts out the words that follow, floats away when that first slash of pain hits him. His mind blocks it all out, keeps safe the knowledge they need, builds a brick wall around it.

He won't be the one to give them Jake.

Not if he can help it.

 

 

Jake takes the coffee Van hands him, leans into his touch when he brushes his fingers through Jake's hair. He sits with him, listens to Drake as he explains what they know.

“He's been missing for three days. Didn't show up for his shift, which worried his captain. They found a mess at his house apparently. They've got a search going.”

“What did Gabe say?” Van asks, taking the cup from Jake, sipping and swallowing deeply before handing it back. They barely had time to get dressed before Billy showed up, freaked and so completely upset that he can't seem to sit still. Jake grabs at him when he attempts to get up for the hundredth time, yanks firmly until he sits still.

“That he's probably dead.”

“Well that's optimistic of him.” Jake snorts into his cup, rolling his eyes. He's grateful that Drake and Gabe found him when they did. He's aware what danger this is but he can't give up hope like that.

“Worst case scenario always. That's my husband for you.”

Jake nods in agreement, wraps an arm around Van, settling his gaze on Drake. Billy is vibrating next to him with pent up anger that Jake understands. He blames himself for involving Officer Davis.

“What’s the plan?”

Drake points at Jake, making an apologetic face at Van as he does before locking his stare to Jake's. “You're coming with me.”

Van tenses at his side, eyes narrowing. “No, he isn't.” He's shaking his head and Jake sets his coffee aside, hands coming up to Van's face, makes him turn his glare toward him.

“Hey. Look at me. It'll be fine. I promise.”

“You could get hurt. He's after you. That's what they ke--” Jake cuts him off with his mouth, kisses him, long and lingering, until he hears Van sigh. His hands rest on Jake's neck when they pull apart. “I can't lose you, Jake.”

He _knows_ how Van feels, even if they haven't had the chance to say the words and this makes him smile despite everything. “Can't live without me, huh?”

Van rolls his eyes, leans his head against Jake's chin. “Don't flatter yourself, Jacob. I just don't want to break in a new soulmate.”

Jake rumbles out a laugh, eyes the way Drake is fidgeting in the far corner, grips Van's hands together and nudges his nose on the side of Van's face. “Listen to me. I'll be fine. Seriously. You have to trust that.”

“I do.”

“Good.” He pulls back, drops a quick kiss on Van's mouth, fingers threading through his hair. “Drake and I will be back as soon as we find Officer Davis.”

Van raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I'm coming with you.” His hands flex on Van's arms, sees that face set with determination. Van glares at Drake when he starts shaking his head.

“It's too dangerous.”

Van snorts. “I don't give a fuck. I'm not letting him go alone.”

“He's not going to be alone. I'll be there. Gabe will be there.”

“So will I. And Billy.”

Billy's been silent but he takes that moment to stand up, nodding his head fervently. “Hell yes I am.”

“No.” Drake snaps and it's so not like him that silence rings after his outburst. His breathing is harsh and he takes a minute to gather himself before continuing. “I get that you're both worried. I do. But this isn't just about Jake. Gabe is involved in this. Do you think I'm not ready to hunt this bastard down before the person I love gets hurt? That's a constant, never-ending feeling. Get used to it.” His gaze falls on Jake and Van, pausing on them before ending on Billy. “The last person that Officer Davis called was Billy. That means you're in danger. We don't want you anywhere near this.”

Billy starts to protest but Jake holds his hand up. “No. I'm not putting you at any more risk. This only happened because you're my friend. You're staying.” He turns his gaze to Van. “And I need you to stay with him.” He can see the struggle in Van's eyes. “He can't be alone.”

Van glances over at Billy then back at Jake, shoulders slumping a little and sighs, pressing his face into Jake's neck. “Please be careful. Please.”

Jake swallows down the emotion threatening to overtake him, kisses the side of Van's face. “I will be, baby.” Van's grip tightens and Jake hopes he can keep this promise.

 

 

He's irritable and more than a little bit irrational but he can't breathe right with Jake gone. How is he supposed to stay calm when Jake is getting right in the path of the bastard who’s trying to kill him? There's the other part of him that is afraid of what it means that they didn't even get a chance to talk about what happened.

It's not that he doubts that Jake loves him. That's the one thing he knows for sure in the insanity that's become his life in the last month. What he doesn't know is where they'll go from here. Jake is scared to death of something happening to him and Van is aware how difficult it will be to make this work.

“But you're going to try, right?” Billy gives him this look that would be heartbreaking to say the least. When this is all over and they can breathe like normal people, he's going to have to talk to him about his over-investment in his love life.

Van glares at him as he picks up the slice of pizza. “Of course I am. I'll keep trying until he accepts that I'm not going anywhere.”

Billy's grin is quick, bright enough to make him blink. He bites into the cheese and dough, ignores the elephant in the room they aren't talking about, turning the television on to the Star Wars marathon.

They're supposed to stay out of sight until it's done.

He made Jake that promise and he plans to keep it.

Until he can't.

 

 

The house looks different on the return trip, less dark and looming. Jake nods as he passes crowds of people scattered on the courtyard. The clan is bigger than he expected. He takes in his surroundings, senses on alert. It's too new. He can hear so much, tries to filter it out to focus on what he needs to listen to. The scents in the air are overpowering. Everything is sharp, a little on edge.

Drake pats his shoulder. “It'll get easier.” They move past people into the main room of the house and Jake follows Drake as he turns one corner then the next. They walk through a door and Gabe stops talking, looks up from the map spread out on his desk. His eyes light up the moment he sees Drake. He moves fast and Jake blinks when he's right next to him, gripping the back of Drake's neck, kissing him fully. Jake looks away to give them a moment.

When he glances back, Drake's face is flushed, smile soft and sweet. “I missed you, too, jerk.” Gabe rolls his eyes but Jake can read him well enough now to understand the upturned corner of his mouth mean he's pleased.

“Right on time. Larry is giving us the details.” He points to a huge man lurking in the shadows of the room. “He says Hank isn't talking.”

Jake breathes deep. “Is he – how hurt is he?”

Gabe meets his gaze. “Pretty badly.”

“Then we need to help him. Get him out of there. He's getting hurt because of me.” He's frantic, wants to put a stop to all this. “He wants me, right?”

Drake shakes his head. “He'll kill him no matter what.”

“So what? We're going to let this man who’s getting tortured because he won't betray me suffer while we what? Wait it out? I can't do that. I can't.”

“That's not – we're not going to do that.” Gabe shakes his head. “We have a plan.”

 

 

Billy eyes open as he sits up in bed, straining to listen for whatever sound had woken him up. His vision is bleary, the numbers on the clock barely visible to him. His heart hammers when there's another scrape from just outside the hallway.

Van, he tells himself. Van is up getting something to drink. Or maybe, like Billy, it's hard for him to sleep with the idea of having Jake so close to the thing that's trying to kill him.

The research he's done on Nathan Clouds shows that he's a monster in either form. As a human, he's ruined more lives than Billy can count. He's ruthless, cold and calculating. Part of Billy is sure that none of those qualities came with the wolf. He's not above killing anyone to get at what he wants. Gabe so much as said just that.

He stops thinking about it, exhales loudly, swinging his legs around, cold feet hitting the floor. He shivers a little, walks to the door and out into the hallway. He can make out a faint light coming from the front room. Van is up, not surprising, and probably wants to be alone. Which is why he's going to stay with him and not let him out of his sight.

He can't imagine what it would be like if the person he was in love with was off risking their life for him. That's essentially what Jake had chosen to do.

Determined to help Van not freak out, Billy strides into the front room, freezing in the entryway.

Van eyes are wide, more angry than scared which Billy thinks is bad thing in this situation. The guy holding the gun to his head is tall, dark-haired, built like a brick wall, cold glare falling on Billy. His smile is razor-sharp, ugly. His voice soothes in contrast when he speaks.

“Oh, good. This will make it easier.”

The effect is pretty fucking scary.

He tries to think of an escape. In the back of his mind, he realizes that this won't end well for them. If they get taken, they'll be bait to lure Jake in and finish him off. The click of the gun makes him focus. The guy had it cocked, ready to put a bullet in Van's head.

“You come quietly, my friend, and it'll be just fine.”

He doesn't have a choice. Billy gaze meets Van's, sees the same conclusion in his eyes and raises his hands up in surrender. There's a shadow to his left and then hands are grabbing hold of him, shoving until he lies face first on the floor, hands being tied. He doesn't struggle, keeps his gaze set on Van's face.

They need time for a plan.

 

 

Jake frowns, taps his fingers on the desk as the phone rings and rings and rings on the other end. Voicemail picks up once more. There's been this itch at the back of his mind all day. Like a press of thoughts hitting him constantly that eventually formed into the headache he's experiencing.

Something is wrong.

Drake walks toward him, wearing an expression he doesn't like at all. Jake presses the end button on his phone and meet him halfway. “What is it?”

He can see that Drake is paler than usual, his teeth worries his lower lip and when he meets Jake's eyes, there's a fear he hasn't ever seen from him before. The hair on the back of Jake's hair stands up. “Tell me.”

“Our inside guy just contacted Gabe.”

Jake waits for him to say it.

“They brought in two people. It's Van and Billy.”

 

 

Van follows Billy quietly as they're taken down and down flights of stairs. He doesn't remember anything much after being taken out of his apartment. Someone hit him in the back of the head and when he'd come to, they were on a plane, tied to their seats. Billy had remained unconscious until they'd landed.  
The ride from the airport to the mansion at the top of what Van called a mountain had been uneventful. Billy was quiet except for one moment when he'd leaned across the seat, whispered, “That's where Jake was,” jerking his head to a spot where they passed. Van could see the broken railing. He didn't think about it too much, his heart tripping over itself at the thought of how close he came to losing Jake.

His mind churns with ways out of this. He can see Billy taking in the rooms they pass, noting points of escape probably the same way Van is. It takes what feels like hours to reach their destination and they're standing in front of a large door. One of the guards shoves at Van, pushes him into Billy's back and they stumble, falling into the door as it opens. They're corralled inside and then all they have is the sound of the door closing and darkness.

“Shit.”

“Fuck.”

That's about as succinct as they can get in this situation. Billy heads for the wall, pressing his hands against it, trying to figure out exactly where they are. Van closes his eyes and breathes in the damp and dank. They know they're in a basement, like a dungeon of sorts – and seriously when did he life become an _actual_ movie. “What are you looking for, Billy?”

His friend stops moving, sighs heavily before turning and leaning his head on the wall. “I have no idea, man.”

“There's no way out except that door.”

Van jumps at the disembodied voice coming from the back of the – well, he'd call it a cell, really – meeting Billy's wide, scared eyes. “Um. Yeah, as if this whole thing wasn’t freaky enough.”

“Billy?”

“Oh, fuck me. It knows my name.”

Van inches further into the darkness. He doesn't know what he'll do with whatever he finds but they have to know what's going on. He starts making out what looks like a shape and when he gets close enough he realizes it's human...he thinks.

A man.

“Billy. Get over here.”

The tone of his voice is commanding and Billy is next to him without a second thought. They kneel next to the man and then Van hears Billy's gasp.

“Officer Davis.”

There's blood all over the man, bruises everywhere that Van can see and he sits with his hands tied behind his back. Hank's eyes are swollen shut, barely slits but he grins, one tooth missing, up at Billy. “It's good to see you, kid.”

Billy tries to smile in return but it doesn't quite take. “What did they do to you, Officer Davis?”

Van leans around, loosening the binds until he's got the older man's hands completely free.

“Under the circumstances, Bill, I think you can call me Hank.” He rubs his shredded wrists with his hands, clumsy and ineffective. “We need to get out of here.”

Van couldn't agree more. “Any ideas how?”

Hank looks at him as if notices his presence for the first time. “Not a clue. But I think the three of us can figure it out.”

He certainly hopes so because he will _not_ be the bait that lures Jake to his death.

 

 

“You need to stop fidgeting, Noah, okay? Stealth is the key if we want to get out of this alive.” Gabe hisses in his ear and he stops shaking his leg impatiently. They stare up at the giant house from just outside the perimeter of the woods surrounding it. From the plans he'd seen, it's perfectly positioned for defense. Built on top of one of the largest hills (he still calls them mountains no matter what anyone else says) on this particular stretch, the front entrance is guarded mostly by how one can fall a few hundred feet off the precipice.

There are a few men marching around the back and they're waiting for the change of shift that Drake assures them happens every hour on the hour.

Someone signals them, hand up in the air pointing toward the house and Jake shifts on the balls of his feet, ready to pounce for the door. Gabe changes into his wolf form, the others following his example. Jake feels useless even though he knew this was the plan all along. He can't be trusted to transform yet, doesn't have the control over it that they need.

Gabe rushes out from behind the cover, teeth bared and bites down on one of the men coming from the house. Jake doesn't let himself think, runs through the sounds of bones cracking, growls and smell of blood to the door. He turns left than right then left again, passing dark hallways and rows of doors until he reaches the silver one, wrenches it open and all he can make out is stairs and darkness.

Van is down there somewhere and he's going to find him.

 

 

They hear the commotion as Hank is trying to talk Billy through picking the door open. It's an old lock, he says. Van's pretty sure that it doesn't matter.

The gunshots are rapid, so unexpected that they all freeze, stop breathing for several seconds. He grins over at Billy. “That's our guys.”

Billy nods, returning to work on the door, listening intently for the sound of the gears shifting like Hank told him. “We need to help them by getting the fuck out of this place.”

“Amen, brother.” Hanks agrees, holding his side with one hand. Van's gripping his waist to keep him upright.

When there's an audible click Van breathes out, his heart racing as Billy stands and cautiously opens the door. The noises above have gotten worse, yells and gun fire and screams of pain. Whatever is going on, it's not good. “We need to move. Now.”

He helps Hank through the door, searching for the stairs he knows they came down. If they don't find those, they're completely screwed.

“It's this way.” Billy says, leading the way through the dark hallways. They walk for longer than Van thinks they should but in the next instant he can see the beginning of the staircase.

Billy's frozen at the bottom, staring up, his hands clenched into fists. It's then Van makes out the sound of a lot of feet running down toward them. He looks around in a panic, feels Hank do the same at his side. There's another cell to his right. They can hide in there. “Billy,” he whispers harshly but it's too late.

Billy's walking backwards and Van sees the two large shadows descending toward them.

“Shit.”

Always eloquent.

“Van? Billy?”

His knees want to give out. “Jake?” Hank leans against the wall, pushes Van forward with the heel of his hand. The broken skin around his wrist is bleeding, raw and Van swears he can see bone when Hank waves it at him.

“Go.”

Van hesitates but Jake's voice holds more than a little fear and he needs to calm him first. “Jake, we're down here.”

The two wolves flank Jake, Drake right behind. Van knows without really having to see that one of them is Gabe. They meet halfway, Jake pulling him in tight as he drops the bag he's holding, touching his mouth to Van's neck. “I didn't know that was you.”

Van closes his eyes. He wasn't sure if it had worked or how he was supposed to do it but he must have gotten through anyhow. “You couldn't hear me?”

Jake sighs. “Not exactly. I sensed you.”

“Guys, we can talk about this later.” Van glances behind Jake, watches Gabe pull a shirt over his head. The other wolf remains alert, tail tucked up, sitting just to Drake's right. “Hell, we'll give you a fucking crash course on mating powers but right now, we gotta go.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before they're running back up the stairs. Jake grabs Van's hand as they ascend. He looks behind to make sure that Billy has Hank. They're limping along, dragging slightly but the wolf guards them, following silently at the end. Once the reach upstairs, Van skids to a halt. The foyer is like a battleground. Chairs and tables crushed underfoot of the dozen of men and wolves fighting it out.

“Just get them out here, Jake! We'll be right behind you.”

Van pulls Jake as he runs through the hall, around the corner and he smacks right into someone, losing his grip. There's a hand around his neck, choking off air and his feet flail trying to find solid ground. His eyes water but he can feel the heat coming off something huge, teeth bearing toward him.

He knows this is him, the one who's been after them. He tries to fight, kicks helplessly because he's no match for this monster. It has years of power behind it, strength, anger and plain hate to keep him going. He won't go down easily though, wriggles until he can bite down on fur and skin. It thrashes Van around and he makes out the roar that echoes around them.

Something hits them hard and he falls to floor, his vision blurs but he's sure what just happened.

 _Jake._

 

 

He doesn't think when he does it. All he sees is Van being held by up, angry red eyes watching Jake as the animal lunges for Van's neck. He's frozen for less than a second and then he's running at the beast, slamming his head into its torso. He hears the thud of Van hitting the floor but it's all adrenaline and rage. He claws at whatever is within his reach.

He's fading fast and panics. Jake needs to protect Van, has to and everything in his mind and body works for that.

He needs to make sure Van isn't harmed.

 

 

Van's head bangs against the floor, burst of pain pulsing through his skull. He gasps for breath, one hand reaching for throat. He feels hands drag him back and Drake voice is in his ear. “You're okay. We got you.”

He shakes his head, starts to move back toward Jake. He can't let him get hurt. His mind throbs with that thought. All he wants is to get to Jake. Drake grabs for his arms but Van shakes him away, crawls a few feet. He can see the blur of two animals, ferocious sounds, terrible and pained reverberate around him. He can't make out who’s winning, where the blood is coming from and his heart constricts.

Drake pins him down with a knee to his back. “Do _not_ move, Van.”

He stops squirming and tries to see what's going on. There's a terrifying howl that suddenly sound like distant sirens, confusing him until he hears Billy say, “Are those – I think the police is coming.”

“Shit. Shit.” Drake never curses. Ever. He pulls Van up by the scruff of his neck. Everything seems to be slowing down, getting quieter. There's a fire blazing in some part of the house. Van can feel the heat, sees the smoke filling up the room. They need to leave. He pushes up on his feet, runs towards Billy.

“We have to get Jake and go.”

Billy's eyes are wide. “He's not – Gabe said he'd take care of it. There's a back exit. Help me with Hank, please.”

He's not leaving without Jake.

Drake calls out to them but Van shakes his head. “Not without Jake.”

Hank speaks up. “Leave me here with him. I should be here when the boys in blue bust in here.” Billy shakes his head but Hank gives him a stern look, pushing slightly at his hands. “Go, kid. We got this.”

He reaches over for Van and Billy hesitates, staring at them both. Van sighs, frantically makes shooing motions. “One of us has to be smart, Billy. Get out there. Help Drake do whatever. Come back for us if we don't show up.” His eyes fall back on the insanity in the hall. Gabe had joined the fray and Van can see him fighting hard to keep between Jake and the other one. Van doesn't even know its name. Doesn't really want, too.

There's a roar, pained and rage-filled, Gabe rolls out of the way, pushes Jake with his hinds and then he's pinning the other down, biting until it's only blood and skin and flesh that Van can see. He looks away, holds on to Hank whose face is pale but he keeps staring. His eyes widen even more and he's shaking Luke's arm, pointing.

His eyes fall on Jake – on the wolf – and fear pierces his heart. He's moving toward them, eyes black, teeth bared and he doesn't know what to do.

“Jake.”

“He doesn't recognize you, kid. It's not him in control.” Hank says and Van wonders how he knows that but there's no time to ask. His eyes shift to the floor, searching until he finds what he needs. He dives for the gun, aims it toward Jake, closing his eyes.

Gabe's words about doing whatever was necessary ringing in his ears.

He knows the bullet won't kill Jake. It'll only slow him down but that's all he'd need.

His hand is shaking as he points it. “Jake, stop. Please, it's me.”

There's a definite falter to the wolf's steps, almost a pause and he clicks the safety off. “Don't do this. Listen to me, okay. It's me, Van. Come back.”

Something's happening and for a moment he thinks it'll be okay but then it passes and it – not Jake – it's coming towards him. He'll have to do this.

It only takes a moment for your life to change completely. All of this taught him that.

That fact he knew better than anyone.

So this...wasn't as unexpected as it should be.

Really.

The gun trembles in his hand. Van's heart beats so hard against his ribs he’s afraid it’ll burst through.

“Don't. Don't make me, please.”

It comes at him, claws and teeth aimed to kill.

Van closes his eyes. “I'm sorry.”

His finger twitches on the trigger and he tries to squeeze, tells himself it's the only choice he has..

“Va-Van.”

He opens his eyes and the gun drops from his hand. He can see the change, Jake's features returning, and he runs without thinking. He's writhing in pain, breathing hard, the bones re-aligning themselves, cracking and popping. Van holds Jake's head, combs his fingers through the fur and eventually over skin and sweaty hair. They need to go before anyone finds them.

Hank staggers over as Gabe limps their way. His face and arms are covered in blood, bruises and scratches across his naked skin.

Jake's eyes open, blue and clear. “You stayed.”

“Always.”

 

 

Hanks helps them get out the back way, refusing to go with them. They can hear the sound of tires on gravel and don't have time to argue.

“I can cover for you. They won't ask as many questions if they realize the guy had me here, being tortured.”

“And what exactly are you going to tell them?”

“You said he's not dead, right?”

Gabe makes a face, nods. Van can understand that. He wants the fucker gone.

“We fought it out. I subdued him. It's not impossible.”

Everyone else had fled and it might actually work.

“Go.”

Gabe hauls Jake up and together he and Van carry him out the back door, running as fast as they can toward the surrounding woods.

“What the hell took you so long?” Drake steps out of the shadows, gripping Gabe by the shoulder, burying his face in his neck. “Asshole.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Van looks down at Jake, wiped out and half-dead at his side. “I don't mean to ruin your reunion but we need to get Jake out of here. Now.” He blinks when a sweatshirt and pants are handed to him. Drake shrugs.

“Always be prepared.”

“Yeah. We're like the fucking boy scouts.” Billy says, helping Van pull Jake's legs through the pants. “So, now what?”

“We take him back to recoup. Everything else we figure out later.”

 

 

Van rolls his shoulders, wincing at the audible crack he hears before sighing deep, leaning his head on the bed. He moves until his cheek is pressed against Jake's hand then lets his eyes fall shut.

“That's not a pillow, you know.”

He jerks his head up, catches the slight upturn to Jake's mouth and for the first time in almost a day, he breathes freely, that tight knot in his stomach loosening. “You're awake.” He can hear the tremor in his voice.

“And you're here instead of getting some rest.”

Van rolls his eyes, brings Jake's hand up so he can leave kisses across his knuckles. “I wasn't the one who nearly got killed last night.”

Jake swallows, grimaces a little then glances down at his chest. The deep claw marks are merely red bruises. “You gotta hand it to these supernatural powers of healing. They kick ass.”

Van cracks a smile, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, can we try not to test them too often? I don't think my heart can take it.”

Jake stares at him for a long moment then moves a few inches to his left, patting the mattress. “Come here.” He grabs for Van's arm, coaxing him onto the bed. Van stretches out next to Jake, wraps one hand around his waist, burying his face in Jake's neck. He takes a deep breath, mouth pressed against the hot skin under Jake's ear.

“I'm sorry I scared you, baby.”

Van shakes his head and Jake can feel the words all the way to his toes.

“It comes with the territory.”

Jake thinks carefully before saying, “Which you don't have to take on. Van, this is --”

“Stop.” Van shakes his head, lolls it to look up at Jake. “You didn't do anything to me.” He grabs for Jake's hand, fumbles their fingers together. “You recognized me, okay? You were able to take control back and stop yourself.”

“But what about the next time? This isn't the life you wanted, Van. You deserve better than --”

“You think about finishing that sentence, I'm gonna hurt you myself.” He brings Jake's mouth down to his, breathes in. “I love you. I'm staying. Get over it.” He licks his way inside, sighing when Jake's hands curve over his hips, stroking circles on his skin and he tugs until it's just the two of them, heat and tongues and teeth.

He closes his eyes and lets the rest of world, his fears and the nightmares that he knows will come fall away.

 

 

They have one huge fight that sends even Gabe running for cover but only seems to amuse Drake. It's the first and only time they argue about it.

“I need to be here to control this thing so I don't end up almost hurting you again. You have a life back in New York. Dropping all that to be here and babysit me is stupid.”

Van rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “If you think anything back there is more important than learning how to help you deal with this and learning what I need to do to make our life – _our_ life, Jake – work, then you're the one who's fucking stupid.”

Jake narrows his eyes.

Van snorts. “Yeah. That doesn't work on me. I'm staying.”

Van stays.

 

 

 _Three months later..._

 

“Babe? Did you get that package from Drake?”

Jake glances up from the laptop, blinks his eyes rapidly to get rid of the spots appearing in his vision. The clock says six o'clock and he stretches his arms above his head, yawning as Van rounds the corner and stops to stare at him. He meets Van's heated stare. “Didn't open it yet.”

“You do that on purpose when I'm around to distract me. I know it.”

He grins over, shrugs innocently then laughs when Van strides toward him, hands fisting in Jake's hair, pulling his head back to seize their mouths together. He drops into his lap and Jake loses all coherent thought. Van being so close always does that to him. The kisses are urgent, full of heat and wet and tongue. He savors the taste as Van slows down, pulling gently at lips, lingers more and more until Jake feels his entire body melt.

His boyfriend is a ridiculously good kisser.

Van kisses the corner of his mouth, nuzzles their cheeks together, breathing into Jake's ear. “We need to go back next week. Gabe wants to go over the story again just in case. Plus I think he misses us.”

Jake makes a face but nods. “Okay.”

He doesn't want to think over the reason they're going. Hank warned them that it wouldn't be easy to get rid of that son-of-a-bitch as he calls him. James is going to come after Jake, no matter what. They have to be prepared for anything.

But for now, he has this life he loves. There's work to do with his new script, Van's new play opens in a couple of weeks and he can breathe. He knows how to control his animal, that he can make sure Van is safe and still gets to be with him.

For now, it's all he needs.

They'll worry about everything else later.

“Get your ass up and come help me in the kitchen. I'll burn it down if you don't.”

Jake snorts because he really kind of will. He slips his hand into Van's and lets himself be pulled up, wrapping an arm around Van's waist before he can move. “I love you,” he mumbles into Van's neck.

“Love you, too. But you're still cooking, baby.”

Jake's laughs is rough and deep.

This is all that matters.

And he'll do anything to protect it.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback loved and appreciated! Leave here or at [LJ.](http://freakykat.livejournal.com/343648.html?mode=reply#add_comment)


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